


Righting Wrongs Already Inked

by belwrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Sex, Tattoos, metatron/marv is a douchebag, this is not as angsty as it sounds I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belwrites/pseuds/belwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fire that destroys the apartment building of Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak sparks a chain of events that lead to Dean and Cas three thousand miles from home, at a family reunion with the very people Cas has tried to forget. But maybe a little family bonding is just what Cas needs to heal old wounds and start forgiving himself for something that happened years ago, something he has immortalized onto his skin in Technicolor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the deancas big bang 2013! Art can be found here: http://ifyouask.livejournal.com/1399.html
> 
> Thank you to Kat (missykitkat.tumblr.com) for beta'ing and Carly (fathersuperior.tumblr.com and ifyouask.livejournal.com) for the amazing art!

Sam Winchester has never, in his entire life, had the unfortunate experience of being woken up by a phone ringing with good or bad news on the other end. His father's death came in a call on an ordinary work day, after lunch but before a meeting. Jess' pregnancy came in a voicemail they listened to together when he got home one night. So, instead of concern, he's understandably irritated when he sees his brother's name flashing on the caller ID in the dark, the ringing loud and piercing and Jess groaning at him to answer it.  
  
"Dean, it's three in the fucking morning," Sam grumbles into the phone instead of a greeting.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, well, me and Cas just almost died, I think you should be nicer," Dean says. Cas glares at him, but Dean just shoots him a half-smirk, and Cas rolls his eyes, clasps Dean's free hand a little tighter. Dean wiggles his shoulder so the phone doesn't fall and runs another red light as Sam grunts, and (it sounds like) trips as he gets out of bed and Jess asks him unintelligible questions in the background noise.  
  
"You guys just  _what_?" Sam half-screeches.   
  
"Our building just burned to the ground, we're heading over to your place. Can we crash for a few days?"  
  
"Of course, man, stay as long as you need. Are you guys okay?"  
  
"A few bumps and bruises, and Cas looks like a coal miner, but we're okay."  
  
"You don't look much better," Cas says, and it's the first thing he's said since they ran from the burning building, backpack weighing down Cas' back and Dean gripping the twelve-year-old they were still watching for his parents when the fire started. Dean almost laughs.  
  
They get to Sam and Jess' house and the light's are on and the door's propped open. They let themselves in and Dean finds himself nearly collapsing under six feet and four inches of little brother that just tackle-hugged him upon arrival.  
  
"Jesus Christ, Sammy, I'm okay, I'm --"  
  
"Dean, you can't seriously expect that he's going to not react when you tell him you nearly died," Jessica says, taking the backpack from Cas gently and setting it down by the door, and closing it behind them. Her usually baggy pajama shirt -- a Stanford one, old and faded -- is just beginning to tug around her belly, and her sweatpants look like they really belong to Sam and have been rolled up about six times because her other pajama pants don't fit anymore. She shoots him a less-than-approving look. "Over the phone, no less."  
  
"Sorry, Jess, but I figured you might want a heads-up when your brother-in-law's about to crash your house at three in the morning."  
  
"Did you call Mom?" Sam asks, finally letting go.  
  
"No, it's like four in the morning in Kansas. She'll kill me."  
  
"She'll kill you if she finds out on the news tomorrow that an apartment building in San Francisco burned to the ground and it was yours," Sam counters.  
  
"I'll call her first thing, Sammy, chill," Dean says. "Me and Cas are taking the guest room, right?" Jess shifts, one hand on her bump.  
  
"About that…"  
  
***  
  
Sam's office has a pull-out couch, which will work for now, until the guest room furniture is put back together. Sam had to take it apart to get it out of what is now the baby's room, and there's boxes of baby stuff in it. Dean and Cas make up the bed with little difficulty -- except when Dean nearly rips the fitted sheet on the metal frame of the pull-out couch -- and Cas showers off and comes out damp, but less coal-miner-looking. He smells like generic, grocery store shampoo, but it's better than barbecue, Dean guesses, pulling him a little closer than normal.   
  
The fire hadn't started in their apartment, but the one below. To the best of their knowledge, everyone got out safely, but it had scared the shit out of Dean, who had been asleep while Cas flipped through channels, between NY Ink and Real Housewives from Wherever, when the fire started. Against his better judgment, and pretty much everything anyone's ever said about fire safety, they both stayed in the building to get the kids out. They're both smoke-drenched and sweaty, but the kids are okay, and that's what matters, right?  
  
Dean's phone goes off somewhere in the depths of Sam's office, and Dean groans. Cas taps his chest.  
  
"Go get it. It could be your mother."  
  
"She'd only call if Sam called, and if Sam called her, I'll kill him."  
  
"No, you won't. If you did, Jess would kill  _you_."  
  
Dean grumbles unintelligibly under his breath as he trudges over to his phone, still tucked in his coat pocket. It's a text from Anna. He takes it back with him to bed, half-wrapped around Cas.   
  
"Who is it?" Cas asks, half-whispering even though Sam and Jess have certainly gone to bed, and can't hear them through two doors and half a hallway.  
  
"Anna. Asking if I'm awake," Dean mutters, replying a short  _yeah why_. Cas tenses, just for a second, and Dean doesn't know why. He does that a lot, when Anna's name is mentioned. To the best of his knowledge, they don't know each other, haven't even seen each other -- Cas doesn't really stop by the hospital to visit him, and Anna's never been to the tattoo parlor.   
  
Anna replies with a request to have lunch the next day, on her, because she has shit to discuss. Dean doesn't know why all his friends insist on gossiping with him, especially about their love/sex/etc., lives, which happens without fail at least once a week and it's almost always Anna. It's not like Dean has advice for those participating in lesbian sex -- not that he hasn't been with a girl, but the whole girl-on-girl thing is a mystery to him. He doesn't get why Anna thinks he cares, either, whether or not Jo likes it when she does that thing with her tongue. Or why she thinks he'd want to hear about it, especially since he's known Jo since she was in utero.   
  
"Just humor her," Cas says, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist, exposing a shoulder full of feathers in a spiral and ink splatters and two words, in a different language, that brushes over Dean's bare skin. Dean traces a feather, gets a halfhearted tap from Cas to stop it, and drifts to sleep, ignoring the buzzing of his phone.  
  
***  
  
Jess is frying bacon -- her latest craving -- in the morning, when Dean comes downstairs in scrubs pants and a Zeppelin T-shirt.  
  
"Did I leave a shirt here?" he asks, trudging through the kitchen to the laundry room.  
  
"Check Sam's basket," Jess says. "It's a good thing you left scrubs here. Did they all burn?"  
  
"Yeah, my favorite ones, and the Nurse Deanna ones," Dean says. Jess snorts, scooping bacon out of the frying pan with a spatula. "Do these make me look like Zach Braff?"  
  
"They're the right color," Jess says, looking him up and down.  
  
"You don't look anything like J.D.," Sam says, tie undone around his neck over the collar as he tries to slide into his shoes while walking around the kitchen to grab his travel mug, already made courtesy of Jess. She stops him, ignores his whining about being late, and ties his tie for him.  
  
"Go put creeps and thieves away," she says cheerily, kissing him quickly as he leaves.  
  
"You two are the weirdest couple I've ever met," Dean says.  
  
"We're not that different," Jess says, rolling her eyes. "He's a lawyer, I run a business."  
  
"Jess, you're a photographer."  
  
"Who runs her own business," she says. "I've got three other photographers working with me. I manage everything. Sam handles the hecklers."  
  
"I'm sure he'd love to be referred to as the bodyguard," Castiel says, coming into the kitchen as he tugs a cardigan over two armfuls of tattoos. Jess just makes a face at him and offers a piece of bacon, which he declines with a hand.  
  
"I left my car in the parking lot," Cas says. "Can you take me?"  
  
"Of course, but we gotta go now," Dean says, glancing at the clock (he's already late). Cas nods, pecks Jess on the cheek and Dean rolls his eyes -- his boyfriend, the gentleman -- and follows suit as they head outside to Dean's car.   
  
Sam and Jess' neighbors give them a strange look as they get into the car, probably because they're not used to seeing them around. Sam and Jess haven't been entertaining much since she got pregnant; she's been tired, and he's been neurotic about the baby, never letting Jess lift anything heavier than a basketball, and putting lists of the pros and cons of six different cribs on the fridge. They came over every Friday night for dinner, which Dean and Jess usually cooked.  
  
Dean drops Cas off outside the parlor. Dean can see, through the poorly lit windows, that Ruby and Meg are inside, watching them, so Dean leans over and kisses Castiel long and slow. When he pulls away, Cas makes a surprised noise, but slides out of the car anyway. When Dean glances at the window again, Meg looks disgusted, and Ruby looks like she couldn't give less of a shit about either of them. He smirks to himself, turns the radio up, and drives off to the hospital.  
  
***  
  
"Jesus, Clarence, did he have to slobber all over you like that?" Meg asks as Cas walks in and drops his bag behind the counter.  
  
"He's a little clingy today, that's all," he replied, shrugging. "Our apartment burned down last night."  
  
"Oh my god, are you okay?" Ruby asks. For an asshole, she does care, sometimes. Cas thinks it's because she has a thing for Sam, who came in with Dean once to get in memoriam tattoos for their father.   
  
"We're fine. We're staying with Dean's brother until we find a place."  
  
"What, you're staying with Jolly Green and his lovely wife?" Crowley saunters in, and the stench of cigarettes and tattoo ink follows him. He makes a shooing motion at the girls, who roll their eyes but shift out of his way anyway. "What is that even like, living with them?"  
  
"I'm sure no different than living with you, Crowley, except everything's scaled to a normal person's size," Ruby says, flicking blonde hair over her shoulder as she slides out from behind the counter and into the depths of the parlor.   
  
"You ought to keep her on a leash," he says.  
  
"We ought to keep you hidden away from the general public, but we don't, do we?" Meg replies. "Clarence, your nine o'clock called about five minutes before you rolled in, she'll be late, and there was a message from someone else who said to call her."  
  
"Do you have a name for me?"  
  
"No," Meg starts walking away.  
  
"Then how the hell am I supposed to call her?"  
  
"She said her name was Annie or something, and you'd know. She was very vague." Cas watches the back of her shoulders shrug, and looks over at Crowley.  
  
"Don't look at me, mate, they're on their rags and I stay the hell away from them when they are."  
  
"Because that's not misogynistic at all," Cas says and Crowley just shrugs, pulling out his phone. Cas heads to his station, his own phone burning a hole in his pocket. Meg's right -- or, rather, Anna is. He does know her number, knows he should call her, call all of them, but he won't. He can't. He hasn't seen any of them in years, even though Anna's right there. He resolves to call later, or at least to forget to for a while.  
  
***  
  
"Are you sure you're all right?" Anna presses, for the fifteenth time, over lunch. Benny groans into his sandwich.  
  
"Anna, for Chrissake, he's a grown-ass man, he doesn't need your babying," he says, mouth full of salami, lettuce, and tomato.   
  
"Thank you," Dean says. "See? I'm fine. Cas is fine. We saved the important stuff."   
  
"You could've died!"   
  
"But we didn't, Anna, relax. I don't know why you're so worried. My dad was a volunteer firefighter, I knew what I was doing."  
  
"Your father died in a fire, Dean."  
  
"I'm aware, Anna, thank you for reminding me."  
  
"Have you called your mother?"  
  
"I talked to her this morning. She yelled at me for not getting out immediately, but she understood why I helped the kids," Dean shrugs. "She said I'm like my dad."  
  
"Jesus, is she ill?" Benny asks. "You're nothing like your old man."  
  
"I think she meant that we were both martyrs."  
  
"Cas'll keep you from offing yourself," Benny says. Anna nods.  
  
"He cares about you too much," she says. Dean wonders how she could know, if they've never even met, but he guesses it's a nice thing to say so he doesn't question her on it.  
  
***  
  
Cas doesn't forget.  
  
He's flopped across the pull out couch that night after work -- an infinity symbol on an ankle, a dragon on a calf, and the outline of a Van Gogh painting on a forearm -- staring at his phone, trying to will himself to make the call.  
  
On a whim, he presses the call button. It rings and rings, and then a voice that is definitely not Anna answers.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Is Anna there?" Cas says automatically.  
  
"Sure, who's this?"  
  
"An old friend." The woman on the other end hums, and then Cas hears, "Babe? It's for you." There's static as the phone is passed, and then --  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Anna?"  
  
"Cas?" She's startled, honest-to-God surprised by his call.  
  
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called."  
  
"No, you totally should, how are -- are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Dean told me about the fire."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You helped save the kids, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You stupid moron, why would you do that?"  
  
"It was the right thing to do, Anna. I don't expect you to understand that."  
  
"That's not fair, Cas, and you know it."  
  
"Why did you call the parlor?"  
  
"I was worried."  
  
"About me, or about what our family would say if I died while you were supposed to be watching me for them?"  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Friendly."  
  
"I'll have you know I haven't spoken to any of them in nearly five years."  
  
"Why, what happened, did you kill someone, too?"  
  
"Might as well have. I got married, Cas."  
  
"Is he an atheist?"  
  
"No, she's a woman." Silence.   
  
Maybe it was out of stubbornness, out of refusing to believe they could ever have anything in common again, but whenever Dean mentioned "Anna from the hospital" and her wife, Cas found it easy to pretend that Dean's Anna was not his sister. His sister, who looked like all the other girls back home in Cambridge, who dressed like them in all their pearls and collared shirts, with their equally preppy, athletic, popular boyfriends. His sister, who turned her back on him when he was sixteen. It just wasn't possible for Cas to believe that Anna Harvelle was his sister, just someone who looked like her.   
  
In fact, he'd convinced himself she wasn't.   
  
"I didn't know."  
  
"I wouldn't have thought you did."  
  
"Congratulations. Are you happy?"  
  
"Best I've felt in years. Cas, do you need help?"  
  
"Help?"  
  
"Money help. I know you haven't switched insurance yet."  
  
"I never got around to it," Cas admits. Anna almost chuckles in her big sister kind of way. "Am I even still covered?"  
  
"You were when I got married," Anna says slowly, thinking. "I had to call Raphael to have him take me off so me and Jo could be on the same one. If they hadn't taken me off before then, I can't imagine they'd kick you off. You're a disgrace, but you're family."  
  
"Thank you, Anna."  
  
"It's true! It's how they think, Cas. Besides, I think they should know that you almost died. It might be a reality check for them. God knows they need it."  
  
"Is that why you wanted to talk? To use my near-death experience as a way to get back into our family?"  
  
"Of course not --"  
  
"Really? It sure is looking like that."  
  
"Cas, please, I just --"  
  
"Shove it, Anna. Why do you even care what they think? If they can't handle the fact that --"  
  
"They're having a reunion, Castiel," Anna finally says. " Someone found Luke under a rock in Vegas. Balthazar's making his first appearance this side of the Atlantic since your graduation. Everyone'll be there."  
  
"So you want me to gate crash?"  
  
"I want you to call them, and remind them that you're still their brother."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it's been ten years and it's about damn time we talk about Irma."  
  
***  
  
Dean walks into the guest room that night and finds Cas sitting, legs criss-crossed under him, holding his phone.  
  
"Y'okay?"  
  
"I just talked to my brother," Cas says, trying -- and failing -- to sound nonchalant about it. Dean frowns as he starts stripping down for bed.   
  
"Your brother?"  
  
"Raphael."  
  
"I didn't know you had a brother," Dean says. Cas shrugs.  
  
"I haven't spoken to him in a long time."  
  
"Why today?"  
  
"I needed the insurance money on the apartment, and he needed an address to forward the check to," Cas says. "We -- well, I, but I'm saying you can come, too -- we've been invited to a family reunion."  
  
"A family reunion," Dean says skeptically.  
  
"Yes," Cas matches his skepticism. "What?"  
  
"I just think it's a little weird, Cas, because you never talk about your family, not in the -- what is it now, four years I've known you, and the two that we've been together? You have never talked about them, and now all of a sudden you wanna fly back to wherever the hell you're from, and have me meet them?"  
  
"It was not my choice. Anna and I talked, and --"  
  
"Pediatrics ward Anna? How do you know her?"  
  
"She's my sister. Well, half sister. It's complicated."  
  
"Anna Harvelle is your half sister? Why am I hearing about this now?"  
  
"She and I haven't spoken in eight years, Dean."  
  
"Why the hell not?"  
  
"There was a falling out," Cas looks uncomfortable. Dean wants to push and pry and find out what the hell is actually going on but he doesn't because he knows Castiel Novak, and Cas doesn't respond well to pushiness.   
  
"Are we gonna go?" Dean asks. Cas looks at him with wide, incredulous eyes.  
  
"Do you want to?"  
  
"Cas, they're your family. Half the time I don't even wanna see mine, but your family and my family are different cases all together. And, maybe reconnecting with them is what you need. 'Sides, if they're giving you money, we can get the hell out of Baby-Land and get our own place, right? A nicer one than the apartment."  
  
"I'd like a house," Cas says absently. Dean smiles.  
  
"Are you going domestic on me?"  
  
"Last I checked, you wanted in on this as well. You're going domestic, too."  
  
"Fair enough," Dean says. "When is it?"  
  
"Three weeks from now. Raphael's booking our flight for us."  
  
"Jesus, don't they let you do anything, Cas?" Dean asks. Castiel shrugs.  
  
"It's the way they are."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean doesn't know how to interact with Anna at the hospital anymore. Sure, they do their rounds, check up on the kids, same old, same old, but he's sleeping with her brother, and he has been for a while, and she never said anything. She acts as if she doesn't know he knows.  
  
Which, he realizes about a week after he finds out, she probably doesn't. He doesn't get the feeling that Cas and Anna talk very often.   
  
"Can I ask you something?" Dean decides to say for some stupid unknown reason. Anna, checking over someone's chart at the nurse station, looks up.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Why didn't you tell me you and Cas were related? I've been talking about him since I got here, pretty much, and he and I have been, like, a thing for a couple years, so why wouldn't you mention, 'Oh, Dean, by the way, you're screwing my brother'?" Anna winces.  
  
"First, didn't need that image, but thank you," she says, standing up and walking around to lean against the counter next to him. "Second, he and I haven't seen each other in about eight years. Maybe a little more. He graduated and as soon as he got his diploma, he took off."  
  
"He doesn't talk about anything before when he started college. Why?"  
  
"Our family is complicated," Anna says tightly. "Not even Jo knows everything."  
  
"And she still married you?"  
  
"She knows that it'll all come out eventually. Besides, if I had told her the whole story, they would've gone to the wedding. And then we all would've been screwed."  
  
***  
  
Castiel knows someone is following him.  
  
It's a sense he's honed since childhood; something necessary to survive when you have Luke Novak for an older brother. He turns once, but sees no one he recognizes on the sidewalk. They must have hired eyes, he thinks, and turns and walks at a brisker pace back to the parlor.  
  
"What's got you ruffled, Clarence?" Meg asks. Cas just shrugs. "Okay," she says skeptically, turning back to her magazine. "There's a dude at your station."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I don't know. Said he knew you," she shrugs behind her magazine. Cas glances around the doorway, and snaps back out of view, away from his brother.  
  
"Why did you let him in here?" Cas hisses. Meg looks up, offended.  
  
"He said he knew you, Cas, gave your last name, which no one ever remembers, and said he needed to talk to you," She studies his face. "D'you want me to get Fergus to throw him out?"  
  
"What have I said about calling me that?"  
  
"It's your name, assmunch, she'll call you it if she pleases," Ruby shouts from somewhere. Cas peeks at his brother, who looks unfazed by the conversation he is surely hearing. Cas gives up and walks over.  
  
"Hello, Gabriel."  
  
"Cassie! You haven't changed a bit! A little more inked, maybe, but otherwise the same," Gabriel reaches up -- Castiel has grown since they last saw each other but Gabe's probably looking over that for his own ego's sake -- and hugs Cas. It's awkward, partly because Cas has at least five inches on him and partly because they haven't spoken in eight years.  
  
"Hello, Gabriel," Cas says, hoping that his coworkers aren't listening.  
  
"So I hear you're coming to the reunion?"  
  
"I was invited," Cas says stiffly.  
  
"Dude, you  _have_  to. Anna's coming,  _and_  she's bringing her wife. I tried to get Raffy to tell me who he killed to make that happen but he's surprisingly stubborn on the subject. Balthazar's gonna fly in from wherever the hell he is, and I heard that Luke's gonna come out of hiding! You should totally come."  
  
"I'd rather not."  
  
"Aw, why not?"  
  
"You know very well why not. Frankly, I'm shocked you even decided to visit," Cas says, pushing past him to reorganize his station.  
  
"Cas, I know we've had our differences --"  
  
"That's the understatement of the century."  
  
"We miss you, okay? You and Anna. It sucks that we don't get to see you like we get to see the other dickbags we're related to. Dad's gone AWOL for good, and Eve got arrested again so she probably won't show up, and last I heard Naomi's with Dad, so they won't be an issue. It's just gonna be the sibs and cousins, and maybe Uncle Marv if he shows up."  
  
"I don't like him."  
  
"Dude, no one likes him. He doesn't like anyone either but he still comes to family reunion-type shit so we have to play nice. Just, think about it, okay? Maybe, if you come, they can, y'know, start getting over Irma, and --"  
  
"And what, Gabe?" Cas faces him. "Get over Irma, and then what? Pretend like the past eight years never happened? Pretend that you all didn't send Anna out here to watch me, but then lost her to -- God forbid -- her wife? Pretend that you didn't kick me out?"  
  
"I didn't kick you out," Gabe says quietly. Cas glares at him. "Well, I didn't! If you want someone to blame for that, blame Naomi and Dear Old Dad. Who aren't even going to be there because they're in deep shit, again. On behalf of the Next Generation Novaks, I request your presence at the family reunion in a month." He pauses for a moment. "You can bring the boyfriend, too. Hell, bring whoever you want. I'll take credit for whoever else you bring if they give you shit."  
  
***  
  
Meg and Ruby drop Cas off at Sam's house. Well, technically, his street. After what happened when Sam and Dean came in for their in memoriam tattoos for their dad, Cas tries to keep them as far away from each other as possible.   
  
"Hey, Cas," Jess says as he trudges in through the garage. "Rough day?"  
  
"Just exhausting. Is Dean home?"  
  
"Upstairs," Jess says with a smile that Cas doesn't quite understand. Cas makes his way up the stairs and into the office-turned-guest room.   
  
"Dean, are you -- oh, hello, Dean." Dean is flopped out on the pull-out mattress, just in his scrubs pants, his  scrubs shirt chucked across the room and sneakers toed off by the dresser. He reaches an arm out and Cas drops his bag by the side table and settles next to him.  
  
"Hi, babe," Dean says, checking his phone quickly. "I talked to Anna today." Cas groans into the skin at Dean's shoulder, and Dean chuckles. "It wasn't that bad. She and Jo are going to the reunion."  
  
"So?" Cas' hand reaches across Dean's chest and traces over the tattoo he put there, the tattoo meant for his father, but really for Dean's own sake.  
  
"So I could tell that you really don't wanna go and I get that, I do, but she really wants you to be there and I'd like to meet the people who raised you."  
  
"My father's in hiding, my mother's missing, and my stepmothers are in varying degrees of trouble with the law."  
  
"What's your point? Half my mom's side has been to jail."  
  
"Dean, your mother's side of the family are a bunch of con artists and thieves. Sam's words."  
  
"Dean? Cas? Are you coming to dinner?" Jess' voice floats up the stairs. Dean sighs, and Cas sits up.  
  
"I have to put on a shirt for dinner here, it's ridiculous," Dean grumbles.  
  
"You had to wear a shirt for dinner at our apartment, too, jackass," Cas replies. Dean shoots him a dirty grin.  
  
"Not all the time."  
  
***  
  
Dinner plays out like every dinner spent in Sam and Jess' house: Sam complains about stupid people in the office and Jess talks about what some cute kid did for the camera today. Cas describes the tattoos he designed or inked -- and occasionally, how stupid some people are -- and Dean talks about the kids in the pediatrics ward.  
  
Cas doesn't mention his brother's reappearance, and Dean doesn't mention his conversation with Anna.  
  
They go back upstairs, giving Sam and Jess time to themselves -- and time to bicker over whether or not Jess should be carrying a laundry basket up the stairs anymore ("It barely weighs five pounds, Sam!" "Jess, you know you shouldn't be carrying anything!"). Cas showers off and when he comes out of the bathroom in just a pair of boxers that Dean's pretty sure he stole from him, Dean can't help but think that this is the guy he fell in love with, not the suspenders-and-cardigans-and-collared-shirts guy who came in that afternoon.   
  
Cas is covered in tattoos, a mish-mosh of his life in art that Dean's not convinced is all his. The owl and dream-catcher on his ribcage are not his art, Dean knows this much. They're too -- "pretty" isn't the right word, but they're not Castiel's art, just like the ink splatters and the spiral and the birds flying away aren't Cas', but probably Meg's or Ruby's or something he found online. Cas' art is the anchor right above the dream catcher, the one Dean knows represents, in some ironic way, Castiel's family. The spiral of feathers over his left shoulder is his art; so is the geometric flower on the inside of his right forearm. The "N" folded into the crease of his elbow is his "calligraphy" handwriting, as Dean calls it.   
  
The calligraphy handwriting is also tucked into the inside of his left upper arm, reading "Irmã Amanda," which Dean thinks is a name. "Irmã" appears in other places, too, like the bird on Cas' chest. Sometimes, when he actually takes the time to read, Dean catches it in places in the tears on his thighs, where words spill out onto the un-inked skin.   
Usually, though, when Dean's down by Cas' thighs, he's not looking to read anything.  
  
"What?" Cas says.   
  
"Nothin'," Dean says, still smiling. Cas gives him a  _look_ , the "You're so strange, I can't believe I'm dating you" look that Dean's seen in, like, every chick flick ever.   
  
Not that he watches those, of course.  
  
Cas flops down next to him, wincing when the metal bars supporting it nearly impale him. The pull-out couch isn't anything fancy; in fact, Dean's pretty sure it lived in their living room in Lawrence at one point, many years ago, maybe pre-Sam. Cas crosses his arms, almost automatically. Dean turns onto his side to face him, curling an arm to support his head and reaching with his other to pull Cas closer.  
  
"My brother was at work today," Cas says.  
  
"Did he want a really embarrassing tattoo in a really embarrassing place?" Dean asks. Cas rolls his eyes.  
  
"No, but that wouldn't have surprised me in the slightest."  
  
"So what happened?"  
  
"He wanted to make sure I was going to the reunion," His crossed arms tighten. Dean purses his lips.  
  
"We are, right?"  
  
"Yes…"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I've been thinking."  
  
"A bad habit, for you," Dean says, slipping a leg over Cas' and between them, just crossing their ankles. Cas either ignores it, or he doesn't notice.   
  
"I'm not sure I want to -- to go. And deal with them. Dean, they threw me out."  
  
"Anna said you left."  
  
"Anna doesn't know what happened. She was too sedated," Cas says huffily. Dean makes a note to ask her about it.   
  
"Cas, if you don't wanna go, we don't have to."  
  
"I know. But we are."  
  
"Okay, if you're sure," Dean says, shifting his leg over further.   
  
"Dean what are you --"  
  
"Stop talking about your family, okay? They stress you out. You carry stress in your arms, you know that?" Dean says, reaching over to gently pull his arms apart. Cas frowns at first, starts to protest, but Dean shuts him up with a quick kiss.   
  
"How do you know about stress-carrying?" Cas asks as Dean works his way over Cas' neck, over the small birds, as if in the distance, that wrap around and over to his back.   
  
"I spend all my time around doctors," Dean replies, completely serious, pausing at the tip of an inked feather.   
  
"Why are you still wearing a shirt?" Cas asks. Dean shrugs, kisses across a barely-inked collarbone to the point right at the base of his neck, and starts working on what is sure to be a fantastic hickey, before Cas pulls him off.   
  
"What --" Cas pulls Dean's shirt over his head and off, balls it up, and throws it somewhere, maybe onto Sam's desk. "He's going to kill us."  
  
"We'll clean up," Cas says, flipping them suddenly over. Dean grabs his biceps in surprise and Cas just laughs quietly as he starts going to fucking town on Dean's chest.  
  
For someone with a lot of tattoos, Cas is careful to avoid Dean's when they're doing this. He focuses on anything except for those two or so inches. He kisses across collarbones, sucks hickeys into places where they won't show when he wears scrubs, but not the Marines symbol.   
  
Cas licks down his sternum, and undoes the drawstring on Dean's pajama pants with one hand and Dean lifts his hips to let Cas pull them down. Once they're off, Dean sits up, pulling Cas into his lap. Cas wraps his legs around Dean's back as Dean pulls him in for a kiss, cocks bumping through the fabric of Cas' boxers. Dean's fingers curl around the elastic band that meets the very end of Cas' back, and tugs down at it gently. Cas arches up and pulls away, his feet probably in someone's pillow but Dean can't care about that, because he's rolling Cas' boxers down his legs and throwing them somewhere else. Cas settles back into his lap, their cocks brushing against each other, and their lips find each other again.   
  
Cas reaches down, manages to get them to line up and jerks them together, and Dean moans into their kiss. He can feel Cas smiling, starts stroking a little more insistently.   
  
"Please tell me you got lube somewhere," Dean mumbles against his lips. Cas laughs, breathless and hoarse.  
  
"Of course, Dean. Who do you think I am?" Cas gives one more stroke, and then climbs out of Dean's lap and walks over to his satchel, still where he left it when he walked in that afternoon and dropped it by the side table. He bends over, starts rifling through it.   
  
"Nice view," Dean comments, stroking his cock lightly.   
  
"I know," Cas says, straightening up and turning, with the bottle and a small square. "'S not bad from here either." Dean smirks at him. Cas takes his seat back in Dean's lap, and swats Dean's hand away and presses the bottle of lube and the condom into it.   
  
"Like this," Cas says, and he gets on his knees, straddling Dean's lap. Cas starts working on Dean's neck again as he uncaps the lube bottle, dripping it onto his fingers and then reaching up between Cas' legs. He presses against Cas' hole, and Cas relaxes, just enough for one finger to slide in. He works Cas, in and out, and occasionally Cas sighs into his mouth, almost blissful. Dean adds another finger and Cas inhales sharply but starts fucking himself back onto Dean's fingers.   
  
"Dean, I'm good," Cas says after a while, pulling back to look at him.  
  
"Are you sure --"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure, just, fuck me, okay?" Dean chuckles, and Cas rolls his eyes and tears the condom's wrapping open. He rolls it down Dean's cock, settles in closer to Dean, and Dean guides him down onto his cock.   
  
Cas hisses, and Dean's about to tell him he was right, he wasn't prepped enough, when Cas rocks back, lets Dean bottom out. His lips find Dean's as he rocks his hips up and down, slowly, dragging along Dean's cock. Dean groans into his mouth and Dean can feel the smirk, so he rocks his hips up suddenly, and Cas gasps.  
  
"Don't be a tease, it's unattractive," Dean whispers.  
  
"You don’t really think that," Cas replies, sucking Dean's lower lip. Cas works with a steady rhythm, insistent, maybe a hair too slow for Dean but he's doing that on purpose and Dean knows it. He knows Dean's close when Cas pulls off Dean's mouth and tugs him down, over him, and crosses his ankles behind Dean's back, and lets Dean take over.   
  
Dean's hand is on Cas' cock, his hips keeping time with it and Cas comes after barely four strokes, come painting up over their chests. Dean follows, hips slamming up into Cas' heat. They lie there, in the afterglow, feet in their pillows, the sheets half-nested around them.  
  
"We could drive," Dean says suddenly, right by Cas' ear.  
  
"What?" Cas says. Dean slips out of him gently, ties off the condom and wraps it in a tissue and throws it in the garbage can.   
  
"To your family's house. We could drive."  
  
"It's three thousand miles away."  
  
"It'd take a few days," Dean shrugs. "I hate planes and you could have time to, like, prepare yourself for them or whatever. Maybe Sam and Jess would wanna come. Sam likes road trips."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam does not like road trips.  
  
"I was three! I slept through most of it!" Sam says when Dean brings it up the next morning.  
  
"What about when we drove to Stanford?"  
  
"Yeah, and me and Dad argued all the way there, that was a great time!" Jess frowns, absently stroking her bump.  
  
"Okay, well what about that time we went to Chicago, huh? That was fun!" Sam's eyes almost bug out of his skull.  
  
"Dean. We were going to Chicago to visit Mom's family," he says slowly.  
  
"Yeah, and?" Dean replies.  
  
"Mom's family was in Cook County Jail!" Sam nearly shouts.  
  
"Babe, calm down," Jess says. "Where's your family live, Cas?"  
  
"A suburb outside Cambridge, not far from Harvard," Cas mumbles.  
  
"Boston's only a couple hours from my parents, Sam. We could go with them and spend a few days with them. We don't get to see them often," Jess says carefully. "I can definitely take off enough time to go, and I know you can, because you haven't taken a vacation since you graduated."  
  
"But --"  
  
"It's not as hot there as it is here, either. You'd like Boston," Jess continues, and Dean thinks she almost sounds wistful. Sam crosses his arms.  
  
"Fine. I'll ask on Monday," he grumbles, and stomps out of the kitchen. Jess beams at Cas.  
  
"You just played him like a fucking clarinet," Dean accuses.  
  
"No swearing in front of the bump," is all she replies.  
  
***  
  
The back seat of the Impala is a lot smaller than Sam remembers it. Dean and Cas know, because Sam  _has_  to announce it every five minutes the first couple hours into their drive. The distance between San Francisco and Boston is forty-six hours, but Dean has a feeling that he can cut at least two hours off that time with his driving, but he'll try to behave as much as possible, since his pregnant sister-in-law is in the backseat with his man-child little brother.   
  
Cas is riding shotgun, and he's leaned up against the door, seat belt tugged under his arm so he has better motion and he's alternating between flipping through a battered sketchbook that he keeps in his messenger bag and drawing in his own. He designs tattoos, not always for himself, and usually on commission (unless the patrons are Sam and Dean Winchester, and then he does it for free).  
  
"Sam, shut up and take a nap if you're so miserable back there," Dean says, glancing at him in the rearview. Sam huffs and slouches. Jess just smiles brightly at him. Cas glances up, first at Dean, and then over at Sam, who's now slouching, or at least attempting to. In the space between Dean and him, Dean's phone rings.  
  
"Hello?" Dean leans into the door, one hand on the steering wheel.  
  
"What day should I tell my brothers you'll be arriving?" Anna asks. In the background, Dean can hear chatter, maybe a little music. It sounds strangely normal, in comparison to everything he's heard about the Novaks.  
  
"Four, maybe? I want it to be less but we've got Jess with us."  
  
"Excuse me?" Jess says from the back.  
  
"You can't stay sitting down forever, you need to get up and move around every so often!" Dean says. "I asked a doctor before we left."  
  
"Sounds like a fun car ride you got there," Anna says, amused.  
  
"Sounds like wherever you are's pretty fun, too."  
  
"We're at Gabe's apartment. Jo and I are staying there. I heard a rumor that Raphael's putting you up in Cas' old room, though. Have fun with that. He and Michael share the house while our dad's in hiding."  
  
"Anna says Raphael's putting us in your old room?" Dean half whispers to Cas. Cas' eyes go wide and he snatches the phone away from Dean.  
  
"Anna, he's doing what?" he says sharply. "No, he told me he'd put us in a hotel, that he'd take care of it!" Dean can hear Anna's voice murmuring through the phone. "Well, find out, please? And call Dean when you know? Thank you, Anna." He hangs up, a little abruptly.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"I'd rather not stay in my old room."  
  
"Why not?" Dean asks.  
  
"I just would rather not."  
  
***  
  
Nine o'clock that night finds them somewhere in southern Wyoming, in a seedy motel that Jess wears flip-flops in the bathroom of. They only get one room because they don't plan on sleeping in the next day and it's not worth the money, getting two.   
  
Jess is flipping through all six TV channels, wearing a sports bra and pajama bottoms, bump out and being used as a remote rest. Cas is stretched out on his and Dean's bed, going over his latest sketch in more confident lines. Sam is in the bathroom, taking a shower ("I have to rinse and repeat!" "You're taking longer than Jess!"), and Dean is on the phone with Mary, who called right as they were unloading.  
  
"We're all good here, Mom," he's saying as Sam reappears in sweatpants, towel-drying his hair. "Your pageant queen son just came out of the shower, do you wanna talk to him?"  
  
"Jerk," Sam says over his shoulder as he chucks the towel back into the bathroom. Dean covers the receiver and stage-whispers "Bitch" over his mother's chastising. "Love you, too, Mom. Here he is."  
  
"Hi, Mom!" Sam says cheerily, accepting the phone, grabbing a hoodie as he slips outside the motel room to talk to her without interruption.   
  
"How is Mary?" Cas asks, frowning at the drawing before darkening a shadow's outline.  
  
"Bobby came by earlier with takeout, she was very happy to not have to cook," Dean reports.  
  
"Are they -- y'know," Jess asks, making an obscure hand gesture. "Are they, like --"  
  
"Seeing as that's my mother and the other guy who practically raised me, probably, but I don't wanna think about the implications of that."  
  
"I think it's nice," Cas says. "His wife died, your father's gone, and they both got along so well before, from what you've said."  
  
"He was my dad's business partner. I love the guy, but it kinda feels like they're cheating on him or something," Dean shrugs. Sam slips back inside and tosses Dean his phone.  
  
"Bobby came by today," he says.  
  
"I know, she told me."  
  
"Since when did they start --" Dean waves a hand. Sam shuts up. Jess gives up on the TV thing and turns it off.  
  
***  
  
Cas wakes up first the next morning. There's a sliver of sunlight coming in that hits him in exactly the right place, across the eyes. Dean's arms are tangled around his chest -- Dean's the big spoon this morning -- and their ankles are hopelessly intertwined. He shifts onto his back, burrows down a little in Dean's arms, and peeks over Dean's ear at Sam and Jess. Jess is on her back, blankets haphazardly covering the bump. One arm is half-dangling off the side of the bed, the other is curled around Sam, who's positively clinging to her, head right in the dip of her shoulder, one arm slung across her body, right before the bump makes it too hard to do that.  
  
Dean shifts and Cas wriggles closer, presses his nose to the hollow at the base of Dean's throat, inhaling the Impala/cheap soap/Dean scent that lingers there.  
  
Dean's fingers trace lightly down his back, and Cas looks up to see if he's awake. His eyes are closed, but Cas knows better than to take that as a sign. Cas decides to just humor him, though, and sleep while he can, because Dean will wake up for real soon, and make them all get up, and force them all back into the Impala and back onto the never-ending road to hell, in the form of a three-story house.  
  
***  
  
They're crossing over into Ohio two days later when Anna calls again.  
  
"I tried," she tells Dean. "Tell Cas I really did try. Raphael's being insistent again, and he really doesn't have a choice because Hester and Ian can't be anywhere near each other and if he changes your room, he'd have to rearrange the entire floor plan and he doesn't have time."  
  
"Do you wanna tell him yourself?" Dean asks.  
  
"I'd rather not. You're better at handling him when he's angry."   
  
"And how would you know that?"  
  
"You knew him six years prior to dating him. Trust me, that speaks volumes." She hangs up and Dean looks up at Cas. Sam's insisted he drive this leg, so Dean's in the back with Jess, who isn't allowed to sit in the front due to a lack of airbags.   
  
"Anna said that Raphael couldn't move us out of your room," Dean says. Cas makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and starts erasing vigorously. "Cas?"  
  
"I can't get these shadows right," Cas mumbles.  
  
"You did hear me, right?" Dean asks warily. Jess looks up from her tablet, where she's editing pictures on the go because she's just that technologically advanced.   
  
"I'm choosing to pretend you didn't say that and I will have words with my brother when we arrive," Cas replies, sketching hastily. Jess and Dean exchange a look.  
  
***  
  
They arrive to the neighborhood around four o'clock on Thursday, just as Dean had predicted.   
  
"Cas, when you said 'suburb,' I was kinda picturing where Sam and Jess live, but with more trees. This is a fuckin development for the one percent," he says as they drive through, the houses are bigger than anything Dean's ever seen. At least, the houses they can see; most of the driveways disappear into forests, the houses hidden away from view.  
  
"My family had money," Cas says sheepishly.  
  
"Had?" Jess asks.  
  
"My father's currently in hiding, and the accounts are frozen. Well, his are. I imagine Michael and Raphael have been transferring the money in for years. The bulk of it's probably in one of theirs." Sam and Dean side-eye each other.   
  
"You never thought that this might be something worth mentioning?" Dean says, voice level.  
  
"I never thought it'd be relevant, seeing as I'd been cut off and, until they pestered me into submission, had no desire to reunite with them," Cas says, equally level. "It's this one, coming up on the left."  
  
The Novak driveway is, like many of the others, one that winds into the trees. It's cobblestone, and the Impala bounces along. Dean hopes that Jessica, who'd shown signs of morning sickness in the motel outside Cleveland, won't puke in his car. He glances at her in the rearview, and she looks okay, but Dean tries to slow down as much as he can. He's not spending the first hours of his arrival in his car, cleaning out pregnant girl vomit.  
  
The driveway slants down to a tandem garage. Both doors are up and there are two cars pulled into it. Dean parks just outside it, leaves the parking brake on, and as they start unloading someone comes thundering down the front steps.  
  
"Cassie!" Someone blond and lanky throws himself at Cas, and Cas stumbles and almost falls. "Gawd-damn, where've you been? Raphael and Anna have already had two loud ahguments, and Hester and Ian have already tried to kill each othah! You miss all the fun!" The man, who talks with the thickest Boston accent Dean has ever heard, untangles himself from Cas and notices Dean, Sam, and Jessica. "Who ah your friends?"   
  
"Dean, Sam, Jess, this is my brother Luke. Luke, this is my boyfriend, Dean, and his brother Sam, and sister-in-law, Jessica," Cas says resignedly. Luke leers at them.  
  
"Raffy said you were bringing friends," he says. "I don't think he put 'em in his sleeping arrangement, though."  
  
"I'm sure I can figure something out for them," Cas says.  
  
"We can stay at a hotel," Sam volunteers. Luke snorts.  
  
"Don't be silly, Sam, we won't do that to you. Come inside, meet the fam, they're dying to see you guys," he steers Sam and Jess toward the front steps.   
  
"Luke's done a few stints in jail," Cas says, watching as they disappear up the stairs.  
  
"Is he safe?" Dean asks.  
  
"Unless you do something to upset him, yes," Cas says, closing the trunk. "Try not to get yourself alone with him. Or let him follow you."  
  
"Right," Dean says. He follows Cas up the stairs, and into the house.  
  
It sounds like a civilized dinner party inside. He can hear chattering coming from somewhere, background music that isn't too obscene or obscure, and maybe someone cooking. He sets down the rest of the bags by the stairs where Cas has left his and follows him down the hallway.   
The hallway opens up to a huge kitchen and a view of a sprawling forest in the windows. A baseball game is blaring away on a huge flat-screen in the family room, but it seems that only maybe two or three of the dozen or so people scattered throughout the space are actually paying attention. Anna and Jo are in the kitchen, and Anna is attempting to cook but also keep a guy, maybe nineteen, out of a pot of what appears to be pearl couscous.   
  
"Alfie, for Christ's sake, go sit with Mike and watch the game," she says, exasperated, swatting him away. He trudges over to the family room and flops on the couch, where the Yankees are beating the Red Sox gloriously.  
  
"Hey, Annie-El, look who showed up!" a short man, shorter than Anna, half-shouts from the island where it appears he's having a very serious conversation with a huge black man and a tall, slender blond man, who looks like Luke but not quite. Anna rolls her eyes at the apparent nickname and gives Dean an exhausted smile.  
  
"Welcome to the nuthouse," she says, and looks at Cas, tries to smile. "Good to see you, Castiel."   
  
"You too, Anna," Cas says, expressionless, but Dean thinks he means it. Jo slides herself right into Anna's side, an arm winding around her waist.  
  
"So this is Cas?" she asks.   
  
"Yeah, this is my brother," Anna says. Jo extends her free arm.  
  
"Jo Harvelle. I married your sister and grew up with your boyfriend," she says, smiling brilliantly.  
  
"I didn't know that," Cas says, shaking her hand.  
  
"I introduced them, didn't I tell you?" Dean says, smirking at Jo. "Jo came to visit us --"  
  
"I was looking at colleges in San Francisco and visited him at work," Jo cuts him off. "Ran into Anna, and she ended up having dinner with us."  
  
"She's the reason Jo ended up in California," Dean whispers to Cas. Jo swats him.  
  
"Shut up, it wasn't the only reason," Jo says.  
  
"Whatever, go chop up something with your knife collection or something, I assume you've met everyone," Dean says. Jo pulls a face.  
  
"Yeah, good luck with that," she says and she pulls Anna back toward the stove.   
  
The huge black man is who Dean meets next. He towers over everyone in the place, except for Sam, of course. He sort of just looks at Dean menacingly as Cas does introductions.  
  
"Dean, this is my brother, Raphael. Raphael, this is Dean," Cas says, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else than standing in that kitchen.  
  
"Your room is all set up for you two," is all Raphael says before turning and walking away from them to some conversation with other family members.  
  
"He's your brother?" Dean says.  
  
"Our father adopted several children throughout his various marriages. He got sole custody every time."  
  
"Are you adopted?" Dean asks.  
  
"No, but Anna and I didn't have the same mother. She and Gabriel did." As if on cue, the short man bounds over.  
  
"Cassie! Is this Dean? Not bad. You always did know how to pick 'em," he says, and before Cas can reply, he's got a hand almost in Dean's face, like a little kid. "I'm Gabe, Cas' big brother."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Dean says warily, shaking Gabe's hand only when he sees Cas nod minutely.  
  
"Luke said he already met you guys. Frankly, I'm hurt," Gabe says melodramatically.  
  
"You didn't want to stay in town when you came," Cas says tensely.  
  
"But still. You could've texted Anna or something," he says, and Dean can tell he's doing it just to screw with Cas. Gabe smirks one last time and bounces away. Cas takes Dean's hand and leads him into the family room. As if on cue, a dark-haired man who looks like a young John Winchester, if the photos are anything to go by, stands and approaches them.  
  
"Castiel," he says, almost serenely.  
  
"Michael, this is Dean. Dean, my brother Michael," Cas says automatically. Michael holds a hand out. The Novaks are polite motherfuckers, Dean thinks.  
  
"Mike," he says, an assuring smile that Dean doesn't trust. "Luke said you were here."  
  
"Since when do I lie, Mikey? I'm hurt," Luke calls from the couch. Michael's nostrils flare, and Dean trusts him even less.  
  
"Anna mentioned you work with her. What is it that you do?" he asks.  
  
"I'm an RN. We work in the pediatrics ward together," Dean says evenly. "Although, she never mentioned she was related to Cas."  
  
"Anna has only just been reunited," Michael replies. "Same as Castiel."  
  
"Cas?" Two older blonde women approach them next.  
  
"Hester and Rachel," Cas says. "This is Dean. Dean, this is --"  
  
"We're his cousins," one of them interjects. "Twins. Practically raised Cas."  
  
"I wouldn't say that --" Cas starts to say, looking more uncomfortable by the second.  
  
"Oh, please, Castiel, you hardly had a stable mother figure in your life after Maria flew the coop," the other interrupts. "And then you had Eve, and Naomi, and let's face it, darling, they weren't mother material."  
  
"Nice to meet you ladies," Dean says with a charming smile that he usually reserves for his mother's book club when they're trying to set him up with their daughters. "But I think Cas was gonna give me a tour of the house, right, babe?" He winds his arm around Cas' waist and pulls him in a little and he thinks he sees Michael's eyes narrow, just slightly.  
  
"Right," Cas says. He extracts himself from Dean's arm but keeps a tight grip on his hand as he leads him out and into the foyer.  
  
"Thank you," Cas says once they're away.   
  
"Well, you gotta show me where everything is at some point," Dean says. Cas takes two of the bags they left in the foyer and starts heading up the stairs. Dean grabs the remaining two and follows him.  
  
Upstairs, they run into Sam and Jessica, who seem to have found a room.   
  
"Where are you staying?" Cas asks, confused because how could they have found a room if the sleeping arrangements are so rigid?  
  
"Luke put us in this room right across from what he said was yours. Said that no one'd be staying there but we were welcome to," Sam shrugs. Cas' eyes go wide, just for a second.  
  
"A girl's room?" he asks.  
  
"I guess so, but it looks like it's been left for a while. Was it Anna's room?" Sam asks.  
  
"There's more than one bed in it, though," Jess says thoughtfully.   
  
"It's a long story," Cas says quickly. He opens a closed door with his elbow and pushes into a room. Dean glances at Sam, but follows him inside.  
It's clear that this is what once was Cas' room. One wall is covered in sketches, so covered the paint's not even visible anymore. The walls are painted a navy blue, but the huge windows that face the front of the house let in enough light that his room doesn't feel dark and dreary. The bed is made up with a white comforter and white sham pillows, but the sheets are navy, too. It looks like it's been cleaned up, because Dean's lived with Cas and he knows that Cas is not this neat.  
  
"They've redecorated," Cas murmurs, running a hand over his bed.  
  
"They have?"  
  
"My sheets were patterned and my comforter was plaid," Cas says absently. "And the floor was carpeted."  
  
"Oh," Dean says. He looks at Sam and Jess, who are leaning in the doorway. "How long are you guys staying here?"  
  
"I told my parents we'd be by over the weekend. Can you drop us at a train station and we'll take a train into Connecticut?"  
  
"Sure," Dean says, and then realizes Cas is staring at something on the other side of the bed. "Cas?"  
  
"There's an air mattress in here," Cas says.  
  
"What?" Dean walks around to stand next to Cas. Sure enough, on the floor next to the bed, is an air mattress, made up with sheets that don't quite match.  
  
"I hate my family," Cas groans, hiding his face in Dean's shoulder.  
  
"Is this a joke or something?" Dean asks. Sam looks over the bed at it.  
  
"All you'd need is a water dish and your name sewn into the comforter, and I'm pretty sure that'd be the full impression the Novaks have of you," Sam says, clearly enjoying this too much.  
  
"I hate my family so much," Cas says into Dean's shirt.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam and Jess sleep in the girls' bedroom -- Dean's not entirely sure Cas is telling the truth about whose room it is, but he doesn't want to push it now. They're tired, and the amount of time that they'll be spending with the Novaks is staggering, and Dean gets the feeling that he's going to learn more in this week than he has in the past year about Castiel Novak.  
  
The next morning, they are woken up by someone banging through Cas' bedroom door.  
  
"Rise and shine, baby bro and baby bro's boyfriend!" It's Gabe. At least, Dean thinks it is. He can't keep all of Cas' siblings straight.  
  
"Gabriel, go away," Cas groans, rolling into Dean's side and hiding his face in the crook of Dean's neck.  
  
"No, get up! Big day, lots of family time! Uncle Marv is coming over!"  
  
"No one likes Uncle Marv, Gabe," Cas says, sitting up. Dean makes a noise of protest in the back of his throat and tries to pull Cas back down.  
  
"Yeah, well, he's the one with all the cash now, so you gotta play nice with him if you want your insurance check," Gabe says, shrugging and picking up a picture frame. "When's this from?" Cas squints at the picture.  
  
"I don't know. Put it down."  
  
"Get up! Anna's wife is cooking and it smells damn good and you won't get any if you stay up here!" Gabe says, and then he leaves. Cas exhales, loudly, through his nose, and rubs his face with both hands.  
  
"Jo's cooking?" Dean says sleepily.  
  
"Yes, and my uncle from hell is coming," Cas half-grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and resting his elbows on his knees.  
  
"How bad is that gonna be?"  
  
"We'll see," Cas says, getting up. He starts digging through his suitcase for clothes, and as he's getting dressed, he stops to look at the photograph Gabe was looking at. It's him, and Anna, and Gabe, and Irma, at Irma's tenth birthday.  
  
Her twenty-fourth would've been in three days. Cas is starting to think this family reunion's not as innocent as they're having him believe.  
  
"What is it?" Dean asks, sitting up.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You look like you either have to take a shit or you're thinking too hard again," Dean says.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
***  
  
Dean drives into Boston with Sam and Jess and drops them off at the train station, leaving Cas alone with his family, which gives him ample time to find out just what the hell is going on around here.  
  
"Raphael, why is there an air mattress in my bedroom?" Raphael looks almost startled, if he can be startled.  
  
"For Dean," he says.  
  
"Dean and I have been living together for almost a year and a half. Why would he sleep on an air mattress?" Cas knows that at least five of his family members are listening, watching. He doesn't care. "Is Jo sleeping on an air mattress, too?"  
  
"No, of course not --"  
  
"So why are Dean and I any different?" Cas demands. "Another thing. Why is this happening this week? Out of all fifty-two, why this one?"  
  
"Cas, what are you saying?" Luke says, sounding genuinely concerned, which means he's either baked like a cake or too sober to handle conflict.  
  
"Irma's birthday is in three days. Or were we all going to pretend that that's not a real date, and I don't exist that day?"  
  
"Cas --" Mike starts, and it's the first time in Cas doesn't even know how long.  
  
"Don't call me that," Cas snaps. "Whatever's going on, I don't want any part in it. I only came here because Dean wanted to meet my family and Raphael wouldn't send me my check."  
  
"Good to see you've grown up, Castiel." He spins around to see Marv, leaning up against the doorway, a suitcase right behind him. "So glad you've matured, and learned the ways of the adult world. How is being an artist working out for you?"  
  
"I tattoo people."  
  
"Yes, and that can't be terribly well-paying." He almost sounds sympathetic, but Cas knows Marv, knows he's a slimy bastard who doesn't have a single sympathetic bone in his squishy body.   
  
"I get by," Cas says.   
  
"I'm sure," Marv says, looking around, as if realizing that there are other people here. "So, how is everyone? It looks like everyone's here." He looks around, brow furrowed, counting with his eyes. "Where's Naomi?"  
  
"In hiding with Uncle Novak," Balthazar chimes in helpfully from the sink, where Jo has coerced him into washing dishes.  
  
"Really?" Marv says with mock astonishment. Everyone knows he knows where Naomi and Novak are. The circumstances of their going into hiding were suspicious at the very least, and the knowledge that the feds have on them is stuff that wasn't known even to the sons who were still around. Cas has a sneaking suspicion that Marv had something to do with it. He's positive he's not the only one.  
  
Still, they have to play nice. Cas, especially. He needs the money.  
  
***  
  
By the time that Dean gets back from the train station, Marv has already moved into the master bedroom, which was where Mike and Luke had been bunking. They're being moved to the loft on the top floor. Cas tries not to think about the implications of them rooming together.  
  
"So who is this guy, exactly?" Dean asks as Cas digs through his suitcase, torn between unpacking and living out of it.  
  
"He's my father's half-brother. He was his business partner until he had to go into hiding."  
  
"And everyone hates him because…?"  
  
"Well, for starters, everyone thinks he's the reason our father's in hiding," Cas says, giving up on whatever he was looking for and closes the suitcase. "He's got access to the offshore accounts that I thought Raphael had control of, which means that I have to play nice if I want that check."  
  
"But he can't withhold it, can he? If it's insurance money, then --"  
  
"But it's his company," Cas points out. "He controls everything. If I were some guy living on the west coast and my apartment burned down, I would've had a check the next day. But since I'm me, I have to kiss ass until he decides to write a check, which sucks, but welcome to the Novak family dynamic."   
  
Dean's pretty sure that about half the things he's heard that are Normal Novak Family Occurrences are actually illegal, but he's also pretty sure he's not supposed to point that out.  
  
Dean notices a photograph on Cas' dresser, the one that Gabe had manhandled that morning. It's Cas, Anna, and Gabe, as kids, middle school or high school age, and in the middle, between them, is a little blonde girl, with a huge birthday cake in front of her, the candles lighting their faces. She's looking at the cake but she's smiling, a real smile, not the kind of smile people have in pictures. Anna's laughing, and hard, judging from the way her face is screwed up and her teeth (she had braces and that makes Dean smirk a little) are all showing. Gabe's got this smirk that looks kind of like the one he's always wearing when Dean sees him, but there's something different about it. And Cas -- Cas has this look of fond irritation, a small smile in place. He's so young, just a little kid in the picture, but he's got an arm slung around the little blonde girl, and he looks so happy to be there.  
  
"Who's this?" Dean asks. Cas looks up, and his face becomes unreadable when he sees what Dean's holding. "First girlfriend?"  
  
"No. Give me that," Cas says, walking toward him and snatching the frame out of his hand. He takes it over to his closet and stuffs it between two shirts, long abandoned, on a shelf and closes the door with a little too much force.  
  
"Who is she, Cas?" Dean asks.  
  
"No one," Cas says.  
  
"Clearly, she's  _someone_ ," Dean says.  
  
"Dean, let it go," Cas says, too even.   
  
"Whatever, Cas."  
  
***  
  
For dinner, Dean helps Anna and Jo cook. He's not exactly avoiding Cas, but he doesn't really want to talk to him if he's not going to tell him exactly what’s going on.  
  
"Are you okay?" Anna asks as Dean chops vegetables a little too forcefully.  
  
"Just on edge."  
  
"Already?" Anna says. "You've only been here a day."  
  
"Cas is being weird," Dean says. "Won't tell me stupid shit. Like, he's got this picture, in his old room, and it's of you guys and Gabe as kids and there's this little girl in the picture, real light blonde kid, and it's gotta be her birthday, because she's got this huge ass cake in front of her, and I asked him who she was, because she didn't look like anyone here and he flipped a shit and hid the picture from me like if I didn't see it I'd forget about it or some shit, and I didn't think it was a big deal and -- why are you looking at me like that?" Anna's frowning, a huge, angry frown. He's never seen her angry, ever. He's seen irritated, and exasperated, and horrified, but never angry.  
  
"Excuse me," she says, and she sets down the wooden spoon she'd been holding and disappears. Dean and Jo watch her storm out of the kitchen.  
  
"What did I say now?" Dean asks. Jo shrugs.  
  
"Dean, I'm surprised you haven't stopped wondering. They get pissed off at weird things," she says, stirring the pot Anna abandoned. "What do you think of this family reunion so far?"  
  
"I think they're not telling us more than they are," Dean mutters. Jo scoffs.  
  
"You think?" she says. "Hon, I thought you were smarter than that."  
  
"I just think it's weird that they're not being honest with us about everything. Hell, you're married to Anna and she's keeping stuff from you."  
  
"You know that their childhood was hell, right?" Jo says. "Their dad was a fucking tyrant, their stepmothers were terrible, their older siblings were either in jail or doing whatever their father told them to do, even if it got them  _landed_  in jail. Anna went to California because she was supposed to be spying on Cas for them while he was at college. When he dropped out, she realized what was happening to her and she basically flipped them off and enrolled in nursing school and did what she wanted for the first time in her life. I spent the past three years easing that much out of her because she's been so guarded for so long. So just, let Cas come to you, okay? It'll happen. On his time."  
  
***  
  
"Where is it?" Anna bursts into Cas' room and starts rifling through drawers. Cas, who was drawing on his bed, slams the sketchbook shut.   
  
"What?"  
  
"The picture, the one Dean saw, where is it?" Anna tears across his room to the closet and starts throwing clothes off the shelves, until she finds the picture frame. She freezes, holding the picture, staring. "Her tenth birthday?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I haven't seen this in years," she breathes, a finger stroking the picture. "I'd forgotten how small she was."  
  
"She always was," Cas murmurs in agreement. Anna looks up.  
  
"Cas, you have to tell him about her."  
  
"Just like you've told Jo? Oh wait," Cas counters. Anna frowns.  
  
"That's different."  
  
"How so? You're keeping secrets, too, Anna."  
  
"Cas, what happened to you -- to us -- it's horrible. But Jo cares about me, and she's willing to listen to what happened to me. Have you talked to anyone since you left? About any of this?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not? Cas, you need to get it off your chest. You need to forgive yourself for what happened."  
  
"Don't lecture me about forgiveness, Anna Eloise, don't you dare," Cas stands up, approaches her. She may be three years older, but he's got five inches on her and she shrinks just a little. "You, out of all of them, have no right."  
  
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I was so brainwashed I didn't stand by you. I'm sorry that Naomi and Dad made us blame you for her death but you have to understand, we all realized what really happened and we regret what we did. I know it's true about all of us."  
  
***  
  
Dinner is tense. No one says a word for the first ten minutes. Raphael's seat at the head has been given up to Marv, who spent the day floating around the house, making offhand, condescending comments about everything from the state of the house to the food in the fridge -- mostly leftovers from the excessive amounts of food Anna made the night before -- to the office's collection of books.  
  
"Dean," Rachel (Dean thinks it's Rachel) says suddenly. "How did you and Castiel meet? We never heard."  
  
"Oh, he was Sam's roommate his freshman year," Dean says quickly. Next to him, Cas' hand clenches into a fist on his thigh. "I met him when I was helping Sam move in."  
  
"And when did you two start dating?" Rachel asks, seemingly genuinely interested.  
  
"Not for a while after that. He dropped out after freshman year -- but you all knew that -- and he moved into my apartment building because I was friendly with the landlord, and got him a good deal. He started working at a tattoo parlor that summer. I gave him rides sometimes, to the place. He gave me and Sam a discount when we got our tattoos. Designed it for free, even. And then his coworkers --"  
  
"Not important to the story, Dean," Cas speaks up.  
  
"It's kinda important. I mean, if they hadn't --"  
  
"No."  
  
"But --"  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Cas, we wanna hear," Balthazar says. Cas looks up. His entire family, except for Marv, who is leaning back in his chair, looking smug and egotistical, is hanging on Dean's every word.  
  
"They basically propositioned Sam, in the tattoo parlor, right in front of everyone.” Beside him, Cas exhales a sigh of relief. The last thing he needs is a detailed description of just who he works with announced to Marv, as if he needs more fuel. “It was really embarrassing and probably not legal, but anyway, Cas wanted to make it up to Sam, but Sam was really nice about it and said he was fine and that he didn't need to make it up to him -- even though I know for a fact he went back to his place which he shared with his girlfriend-- who's now his wife-- and cried for like an hour. So I dropped Sam off at home, and I was in the car with Cas and he was still completely mortified and we were pulling into the parking lot of our building and he was babbling about how sorry he was about what happened and he could totally refund us if we wanted and I just thought --" Dean looks at Cas and smiles. "I just remember thinking how cute he was, and I kissed him. And that was it."  
  
"That quick?" Rachel says. Dean nods.  
  
"I mean, he freaked out at first. What was it about, babe? Something like Sam was my brother and he couldn't do that to Sam, even though I was really hot --" Cas thinks he sees Marv frown slightly "-- but that all went away after I bought him dinner."  
  
"You ordered Chinese food and nearly ruined my rug," Cas mumbles under his breath, looking determinedly at his plate.  
  
"I cleaned it up, didn't I?"  
  
"My apartment smelled like wet carpet for a week."  
  
"...I'm not touching that sentence with a ten foot pole," Dean says, to which Luke, Gabe, Balthazar, and Jo snort into their plates. Cas looks up to glare at him, but sees instead that Michael already is, but he almost looks like he feels bad about it, because of Luke.  
  
"So, while this conversation is rousing -- and it really is, quite stimulating, I've forgotten how intellectual you all are -- what are the plans for this week?" Marv brings the table, which was on its way to a laughing fit that would've almost felt like a family enjoying each other's company, to a dead silence.  
  
"What do you mean?" Mike asks carefully.  
  
"I'm referring to the anniversary that is coming up. How old would she be now? Twenty-four?" Marv looks around, leaning into the arm of his chair. No one meets his eye. "Castiel? Have you planned anything?"  
  
"No, Uncle Marv," Cas says monotonously.  
  
"Really? I would've thought you'd be the first. You haven't even visited her grave since she was laid to rest." He sounds surprised, but Cas knows he isn't. He knows that Marv goes to see Irma once a month, leaves her flowers, acts like they were close when she was alive when that couldn't be farther from the truth.  
  
"Who died?" Dean asks, looking between Cas and Marv. Marv's false surprise turns to genuine shock.  
  
"You don't know?" Dean shakes his head. "My God, Cas, are you keeping secrets from this boy?"  
  
"Marv, please --" Anna says.  
  
"Well, here's what happened," Marv says, leaning in toward the table, toward Dean. Dean's brows twitch, just slightly frowning. "Cas had a little sister once. And then he killed her."


	5. Chapter 5

"Do you remember the beach? It was right before you started high school, and Dad and Naomi took us to Cape Cod for a month. All of us, even Mike and Luke and some of the cousins came. We stayed in that bungalow and it was tight because we brought like ten air mattresses and we managed to fit twelve people in two rooms, remember that? You were fucking miserable, I remember. Gabe complained the whole time, but I just laughed every time he opened his mouth, because I was stuck with the twins, and Irma, and those three didn't get along, not even if their lives depended on it. It was the last time I remember us liking each other, because then you started high school and got caught kissing that boy and then, well...   
  
"Cas, c'mon, please? Open the door."   
  
Anna has been sitting right outside the bathroom door for nearly an hour, talking, shouting, holding one-sided arguments, coaxing, even reminiscing, like she is now. Cas made it through dinner -- where Marv continued to spin his half-untrue (but only half) tale about Irma and her death, and what she was like (he never knew her, not really) until Cas snapped, got up, and disappeared up to his bathroom, where he's kept the door locked. He doesn't know where Dean is, but at this point, his self-loathing and guilt have overridden his fear of what his family might do, or tell him.  
  
The worst has already happened.  
  
Cas is sitting in the empty bathtub, fully clothed, head between his knees, breathing methodically. It's the only way he'll make it through tonight, and maybe the rest of the visit here, if he ever gets it together long enough to walk out of the house again.  
  
"Cas, I'll stay here as long as I have to," Anna says. Cas believes her. She's notoriously stubborn, a trait that her mother undoubtedly passed on to her, if what he's told by the older ones is anything to go by. No one really knows how she died. Cas has a few ideas, knows that Anna and Gabe's are probably similar. None of them really hero-worshipped their father like the rest of their family did. Ten years as the family pariah has allowed Cas to reflect on his father's actions, to see what kind of person Novak really is/was.   
  
In a word, a douche.  
  
Anna raps on the door lightly, what must be her wedding ring clicking on the wood.  
  
"Cas, please open up," She's wearing him down. Whether or not she knows this is irrelevant. Cas stands up shakily and gets out of the bathtub. He pops the lock of the door and retreats quickly back to his position in the bathtub as Anna opens the door, and scoots in. She closes it behind her and sits right by the tub, leaning on the lip.   
  
"Dean and Gabe went for a drive," she tells him quietly. "In Dean's car. Dean's not handling the reunion very well."  
  
"That makes two of us," Cas mumbles, head between his knees again.  
  
"I'm sorry about what Marv did," she says. "That was shitty."  
  
"You're telling me."  
  
"Can I do anything?"  
  
"Can you kill him?"  
  
"Not legally, no. But morally, I'm not against it," she says, as if this were to cheer him up. Cas smiles weakly. "Maybe we should just cut his brakes."  
  
"An eye for an eye?"  
  
"Maybe," Anna says. They never talk about their mothers, the woman Cas never met, and the woman who left. They know the official details of each of them, though: Cas knows that Anna's mother died in a car accident and Anna knows Cas' mother flew the coop to save her own sanity, but couldn't save the children she loved more than herself.   
  
But they also know that Anna's mother was not the terrible driver the reports make her out to be. They know that the reports also said that the car appeared to have been "tampered with." They know that she was planning on leaving and taking Anna and Gabe with her. They know that Cas' mother was not someone The Powers That Be approved of.  They know that their father is mixed up in some seriously shady shit, but no one talks about it because no one wants to end up like him (in hiding. With Naomi, if it wasn't already bad enough).   
  
"Cas, I know you don't forgive yourself for what happened to Irma," Anna says. "Dean told me all about the tattoos. I'm sorry for that. If Dad and Naomi hadn't --  _brainwashed_  us completely, I don't think you'd feel as bad as you do. You don't deserve that guilt, Cas. No one does. The accident wasn't even your fault."  
  
***  
  
"He was dozing, yeah, but he had the right of way. The other guy didn't even have the 'it turned red as I was going' excuse, he was just a drunk old bastard."  
  
Dean and Gabe are parked down a back road, under a tree. Gabe is lounging in shotgun, one leg crossed over his knee. Dean's gripping the steering wheel tightly, even though the car's off.  
  
"Our step-monster at the time, Naomi, she was a real bitch. She was the second one after Cas' mom left. Eve was a nightmare, sure, but Naomi was a different kind of torture. Slow. Deliberate. Made sure we all believed her word before God's. She hated Marv, though, and that was probably her only redeeming quality. She made sure we all did, not that she needed to. We all hated him long before she was in the picture," Gabe says thoughtfully, pausing mid-memory. "Anyway. Irma died pretty much on impact. Cas had a concussion, but once he was lucid enough, Naomi tore him a new one for killing the baby of the family. After the funeral, she made sure we all blamed him for it. He was ignored on holidays, for the most part, the occasional passive-aggressive remark here and there, most of them from Raphael or Michael. Right around then Luke was on his -- I think it was second, but it might've been third -- stint in jail. Anna was so far in the closet she did anything our father, or Mike, or Raffy said just to keep her secret, so she was right up there with them tormenting Cassie, who definitely would've stood by her if she came out when we were kids. When he graduated, he left the next day. Dad dropped him at the airport, and we never heard from him again. A week later, Anna shipped out because they wanted eyes on him. Well, The Powers That Be did, because, y'know, Castiel Novak doesn't just get to leave without making sure he's not blabbing to the world his life story. Anna stopped checking in about a year and a half after that. And, here we are." Gabe puts his arms out in a "that's all, folks" kind of way.  
  
"I don't know what to say," Dean says finally.  
  
"Well, you're not running away screaming, so that's gotta be a good thing, right?"  
  
***  
  
Anna and Cas stay in the bathroom for what feels like hours. Anna keeps talking, only now she doesn't shout or try to argue with him. She talks about the good memories of their childhood, the ones before Irma fell apart and died, and before Naomi turned on Cas, and made them hate him. It doesn't actually do much to help Cas, but it's nice, to hear the stories and the memories he's since forgotten.  
  
"Cas?" Dean's voice carries through Cas' room. Anna knocks against the bathroom door.   
  
"In here, Dean," she says, facing Cas again. They can hear his footsteps, the pause between when he arrives in front of the door and when he tentatively turns the knob and opens it, peeking in before opening it wider and leaning in the doorframe.  
  
"I was just talking to your brother. Gabe," Dean clarifies. Cas nods, resting his chin on his knees. "You okay?"  
  
"I've been better," Cas says quietly. Anna stands up, using Dean and the towel bar for support as she gets back on her feet.  
  
"I'm going to go find Jo," she says, walking around Dean and out of Cas' bedroom, the heels of her shoes clicking on the hardwood. Dean sits on the closed toilet.   
  
"So what's your version?" Dean asks after a while. Cas looks at him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Gabe told me what all of them thought happened then. What's your version?"  
  
"You don't believe him?"  
  
"No, I think whatever happened with your raging bitch of a stepmom is what happened to them. But why'd you go pick her up that late? She was, what, fourteen, Gabe said? What the hell was she doing out that late at fourteen?" Dean asks. Cas picks at a loose thread on his jeans, thinking, before he speaks.  
  
"We were falling apart. We all were. Anna was becoming distant, moody, too wrapped up in her world -- and around our parents' fingers -- to be any help. Gabe was already out of the house, and he really was the last ally we had at the time, and Irma couldn't -- she didn't know what to do. She got involved with the wrong kinds of people early in her freshman year. She got invited to this party, and I dropped her off at it because I was covering for her at the time. I didn't want her there, and she knew that, but she went anyway. She called me around one in the morning, and asked me to pick her up, so I did.  
  
"You should know that I didn't sleep much back then. I was constantly studying, or avoiding my family, or drawing. Irma and I both drew. One in the morning was not an unusual time for me to be awake, but I was tired. Exhausted. So I dozed. Just for a second, but that was all it took for us to get T-boned at an intersection barely a mile from here." Cas pauses, for a moment. "When I woke up, the ambulances were already there. Naomi was at the hospital, and it wasn't until she was screaming at me that I knew Irma had died."   
  
"Jesus, Cas."  
  
"She made it clear, from the funeral on, that she thought it was my fault Irma died. She made sure everyone else thought so, too. I spent the last two years of my time here ignored, and antagonized, and as soon as I graduated, I was gone." Cas almost smiles. "I became the antithesis of a Novak."  
  
Dean's not sure what that means, because from what he's seen, Gabe and Anna share a few traits (compassion, sarcasm, that eye-roll thing they do when they're completely fed up with the surrounding bullshit) with him and Dean doesn't think he's really all that different from them.  
  
Then again, what the fuck does he know, he met these people  _yesterday_.  
  
***  
  
Dean wakes up early the next morning, surprisingly separated from Cas. Ever since the fire, he's been clinging to Dean in his sleep. Now that he knows about Irma (who must be the name written everywhere on Cas' body, with and without that accent thing over the "A"), Dean gets it, a little more.  
  
He slides out of bed carefully, slipping into shoes and grabbing his phone as he goes, and slips down the stairs and out to the deck. It's a crisp morning, and it must have rained the night before because the wood is still damp and everything outside is glowing, shining. Dean presses speed dial one and listens to it ring.  
  
"'Lo?" Sam grunts into the phone.  
  
"Sammy?"  
  
"Dean, do you know what time it is?"  
  
"Yeah, I do, but I really need to talk to you."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"Yeah, now."  
  
"Why not later, when the rest of the world is awake?" In the background, he can hear Jess groaning something. "Hang on." Dean waits. He hears a door close, and then: "What is it?"  
  
Dean launches into the story of the events from the night before, about how Cas had a sister once, how she died, how his stepmother is a bitch and did what she did, how Marv is an asshole straight from the eighth circle, and how fucked up Cas is over Irma. Sam just listens, and Dean would think that he'd fallen asleep except he knows for a fact that Sam snores, not a lot, just enough to be heard through a phone.   
  
"Jesus," he says finally. "I mean, I knew he had baggage when we lived together, but damn. That's a whole new level of fucked up."  
  
"I know. And I'm not sure I was supposed to tell you so don't talk about it with him, okay? But what am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Dean, if you think I'm even remotely prepared to give you advice for this shit, you're outta your mind. Do you remember Dad dying?" Dean doesn't answer. Of course he remembers.  
  
"But why wouldn't he tell me about her?"  
  
"Grief?" Sam suggests. "Shame? Dean, if everything they've told you is true, and Cas spent his last two years there being told over and over that it was his fault she died, the last thing he'd want is to meet new people who don't know him, have them find out about what happened and blame him, too. And you're, like, the most important person in his life since he left home. You'd be the  _last_  person he'd wanna tell, if I were him."  
  
Sam tries, lord does he try, but by the time he gets off the phone with him, Dean still doesn't feel -- what's the word for what he wants to feel? At ease? Pacified? Since when does he use words like "pacified"?  
  
So, he calls Mary.  
  
"Dean!" She picks up right away.  
  
"Mom, it's five in the morning in Kansas, what are you doing up?"  
  
"Couldn't sleep," she says. "Besides, I've got a lot to do today. What's up, hon?"  
  
Dean launches into the story again, tripping over words and details but by the time Mary's got the gist of it, he's mostly coherent.  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
"That's all you can say?"  
  
"I'm thinking," she says. "Well…you never did like simple people."  
  
"Gee, thanks, Mom."  
  
"It's not a bad thing!" she says quickly. "Just…you never did. But okay. Cas."  
  
"What do I do?"  
  
"Honey, if I knew, I'd tell you. People grieve in their own ways, and sometimes, you just have to stand there and hold their hand. and know that you are doing all in your power to help them."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"He's been dealing with his sister's death a lot longer than you thought. Well, maybe not dealing with it, judging from that story. The family invited him because they want to fix their relationship to him, I'm guessing, so maybe this trip will help him heal."  
  
"So you think we should wait it out?"  
  
"I think you shouldn't let him leave just yet. Make sure he listens to what they have to say before he makes any decisions. But don't let him take it lying down, either. It sounds like they all need to get locked in a room together and just talk it out." Mary sounds almost amused by that idea, maybe because she knows Cas.   
  
"Mom, if I do that, his ex-con brother and his Perfect Son brother will kill everyone," Dean says.  
  
"Not  _kill_. They might try to start an orgy, though." Dean spins around. Luke is walking toward him, lighting a cigarette one-handed. He exhales a confident cloud of smoke. "Who you talkin' to, Deano?"  
  
"Dean?"  
  
"I gotta go, Mom, it's one of Cas' brothers."  
  
"Send him my love. Cas, I mean. Unless his brothers need it, too."  
  
"I will. To Cas. Talk to you later." He hangs up before Luke can say anything else within her earshot. "What do you want?"  
  
"To apologize," Luke says airily, looking out to the forest. The cigarette between his teeth, combined with the Boston accent which no other Milton appears to have, makes him almost completely impossible to understand. "My family is… unconventional, to say the least, and Mahv's kind of a nightmare. Only your second day and he's already here, spreadin' his sunshine." Luke shakes his head sadly. "We're a lot more fun, really. When it's just us. No parents or anyone who pretends to be one."  
  
"Cas never mentioned any of you to me," Dean says. Luke chuckles through another cloud of smoke.  
  
"And you're surprised? I was told you were intelligent enough."  
  
"Well, you're all kinda hard to miss." Luke laughs, a little too loud.   
  
"Oh, right, because our father's a big name in the Russian Mob, not to mention we probably own most of the products in your -- Cas said you had an apahtment?"  
  
"It burned down."  
  
"Right. You played hero, too, didn't you?"  
  
"The firemen in our neighborhood are short staffed. I help when I can." Luke nods, makes a "huh" sound around his cigarette.  
  
"Well, I just wanted to tell you that I wasn't around when she died. They let me out on special permission to go to the funeral. I was the only one who wasn't wearing black. They wouldn't let me be in any of the pictures," He sounds almost amused by the memory. "Anyway, by the time I got out, Cassie and Annie-El were gone, 'cept she was skyping once a week with us to give reports on Cas." He pauses, takes a long drag of his cigarette. "Then, one day, she didn't check in. She didn't again on the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. The next time we heard from her was two years ago. Raphael picks up the phone, realizes it's her, and's about to go on a full rampage, complete with the throbbing vein in his foahead and everything, when she shuts him down so fast I wasn't sure it was her. She demands to be taken off the family insurance, demands her share of the empire be handed over, and demands that we never contact her again unless we show up to support her at her wedding to her girlfriend, Joanna Beth Hahvelle." Luke snorts, the remnants of smoke of the last drag exiting in a puff through his nostrils. "We didn't. Raffy wouldn't allow it. Me and Gabe wanted to go, but I was in jail again, and Gabe was shipped out to check on the London branch, and party with Bawlthy."   
  
Dean processes this.  
  
"So Raphael's pulling all the strings?" Luke snorts again.  
  
"No, dumbass. Our absentee father would be, if he were around. 'Course, he skipped out about a year after Anna did. Nah, the mob's up Raffy's ass to make sure we all behave, and Raphael just thinks he's doing what Daddy would've wanted. He doesn't know jack shit about that old bastard, and he sure as hell ain't him."  
  
"Is he the oldest?" Dean asks carefully. "Because this whole sibling thing is kinda fucked up." Luke laughs.  
  
"Well, technically, yeah. Me and Mike were barely in school when Daddy and Step-monster number two brought him home. He's a couple years older than us. Technically, Mike's supposed to be in charge, but seeing as the stupid sonovabitch can't even control me, it's probably best that Raffy took over." Luke looks forlornly at the tiny cigarette butt that's left, snubs it out on the railing, and flicks it over the edge. "Dean, we're probably the most fucked-up family you'll ever meet. Cas isn't really one of us, and I mean that in the best way possible. He gets it from me, I think."


	6. Chapter 6

Cas spends the next day in his room. Dean spends the entire day out of it, chatting with everyone, helping cook, watching sports with the older Novaks; he's basically keeping up appearances, if that's what anyone wants to call it. He's got a weird sort of idea in his head that if he keeps engaging with the Novaks, they'll see that he's not afraid of them, and maybe they'll stop acting batshit insane.  
  
No one wants to tell him that what happened at dinner the night before, and it’s what they call a normal conversation.  
He slips away, sometime in the afternoon, upstairs and knocks on Cas' door.  
  
"Cas? It's me."  
  
"Come in."  
  
"Why don't you come out?"  
  
"I'm busy."  
  
"Doing what?" When he doesn't get an answer, Dean opens the door as quietly as he can. "It's like the fucking Beautiful Mind up here." The wall that held all of Cas' artwork from high school has expanded to almost every wall, the doors of his closet, even the back of the door to the hallway, which Dean only notices when he tries to close it and the doorknob is nearly entirely covered.  
  
"I was inspired," Cas says quietly. Dean examines the drawings. They're all of people. A few of him, some of Sam and Jess, Anna, Gabe, even Mike and Luke (who are way too close to each other for Dean's comfort), and a single unknown girl, hair penciled in light, like Jessica's, and her eyes seem to shine on the paper, a coffee stain sort of light brown. Her skin is darker than anyone else's, too, like she's well-tanned.  
  
"She was adopted," Cas says, and Dean looks over at him. He's sitting on his bed, legs crossed under him, frowning at a sketch. "From Brazil. She doesn't look it, I know."  
  
"Irma?"  
  
"In Portuguese,  _irmã_  means 'sister.'  _Amada_ is 'beloved,' but my parents Americanized it and changed it to Amanda, also a common Brazilian name," Cas says. "She was their pride and joy."  
  
"Your father's and whose?"  
  
"Pick a stepmother. They all loved her more than the rest of us."  
  
"She was two years younger?"  
  
"Yes. She was two when they adopted her. She spoke no English, and didn't have a name. At the orphanage, they called her  _irmãzinha_. Little sister," he translates, looking up. "So they shortened it to Irma." Dean walks over and sits across from Cas on the bed. He's drawing her again, as if she were looking at them over her shoulder, her hair in loose waves. "Everyone said she was the pretty one."  
  
"I don't know, Cas, she was only fourteen. She could've gone through puberty and turned out to look like, y'know,  _Gabe_ , or something." Cas cracks a smile. "'Sides, you turned out all right."  
  
"Thank you," Cas replies sarcastically. Dean grins, gets up on his knees and walking closer to Cas.  
  
"Come downstairs?" Dean says, barely a whisper, right by Cas' ear, gently teasing the sketchbook and pencil from Cas' hands. "They're all behaving, I promise. I haven't even seen Marv today. No one's even mentioned what happened last night." He's practically spooning Cas' side now, hands interlaced at Cas' other hip, pulling him closer.  
  
"You keep trying to get me downstairs, but I don't think you actually wanna go," Cas says, leaning into him. Dean chuckles, and Cas turns, just slightly, and their lips meet, Cas' warm and dry against Dean's.   
  
They haven't really had the chance to do this the past few days, between sharing motel rooms with Sam and Jess, and Cas being too on-edge from being around his family. So this impromptu probably-can't-go-past-making-out session is more than welcome, in Dean's opinion. Cas turns all the way now, facing him, and his hands find Dean's face and hair, pulling him seemingly closer as Dean crosses his legs under him, mirroring Cas exactly. Dean's tongue slides across the seam of Cas' lips, and Cas opens for him easily. It's the first time since they arrived that his guard is completely down; the only thing he's paying attention to is Dean's mouth on his, the hand in his hair and the other at his hip, two fingers hooked through his belt loop there. They're both leaning in too much for it to be comfortable and it feels kind of like they're in high school, trying to keep their distance, but neither of them seem to care too much, until Dean's other hand slips down to Cas' hip and he pulls him into his lap by his belt loops. Cas' ankles cross behind Dean's back, and his arms wind around Dean's shoulders, up to his hair, as Dean's slide up to his back, under his cardigan but over the thin T-shirt he's wearing. Cas shudders at the blunt fingernails that drag lightly over it, fingers lacing in the short bristly hairs at the back of Dean's head. They could stay up here like this forever, Cas thinks, or at least until the reunion from hell is over.  
  
"Dean, where'd you -- oh." Cas pulls away sharply, a loud smacking sound echoing as he does, and looks over Dean's shoulder to see Anna standing in the now open door, blushing furiously, looking anywhere except at them. "Sorry. Jeez, Cas, what happened to your room? Never mind. I'll go." She seems to trip over her words and her feet as she closes the door again. They can hear her feet, muffled because she's only wearing socks, pounding the floor as she runs away.  
  
"Ugh." Cas presses his forehead into Dean's shoulder, not quite ready to separated and move, but the mood is good and dead. Dean presses a kiss to the side of his head.  
  
"It's not that bad. You know how many times I've walked in on Sammy and his girlfriends?"  
  
"At least it wasn't Michael," Cas mutters into Dean's shirt, standing up and straightening his shirt and sweater, tugging down the sleeves over his tattoos. The only ones visible when he's dressed like this are the birds on one side of his neck that wrap over his shoulder and down his back just a little and blend into the tree there, and the compass on the other side.  
  
"Are you coming?" Cas asks. Dean gets up, a little unwillingly. Cas frowns slightly, runs a hand over Dean's hair, seems to approve of it, and takes Dean's hand as they walk out of his room and back downstairs to the family.  
  
***   
  
Dinner is buffet-style tonight; Jo and Anna, and the twins, and the Alfie kid, and someone named Ian (who Dean has learned is actually called Inias, judging from the way Hester and Rachel squawk at him when he sticks his fingers in the food) have set out all the food on the island with a stack of plates on one end, and told everyone to "go crazy." Marv isn't around; apparently he doesn't come to Boston very often and he's checking up on things and won't be back till later, and no one feels like they should maybe wait for him. No one says anything to Cas, who stays close to Dean as they move through the half-organized line for dinner, back against his chest whenever possible.  
  
They find room to sit down on a couch in the family room, and they're squished together between the armrest and Balthazar, who elbows Dean every time he tries to cut something on his plate.   
  
"So, Cas," Luke says, stretching out on the big leather couch that directly faces the TV, his toes cracking on the ottoman. "You coming?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"To Irma's grave," Mike clarifies. He's sitting right next to Luke, sitting upright with both feet on the floor. Luke's arm is stretched out behind his shoulders on the couch, a completely innocent gesture if it weren't for the fact that it was Mike and Luke. "We're going to visit her on her birthday."  
  
"Marv's not going," Anna chimes in from the other side of the room, where she and Jo, and Hester, and Rachel are chatting amongst themselves amiably. "We didn't tell him."  
  
"You've never been to see her," Mike says.   
  
"Are you trying to guilt-trip me?" Cas says.   
  
"No, of course not, Cas, we just --"  
  
"Dude, you should see her. She's your goddamn sister, and you gotta stop beating yourself up over this," Gabe says from the archway between the family room and the kitchen, surprising everyone.  
  
"I have to stop beating myself up over her death?" Cas says, and it's clear that that was the wrong thing to say. "I'm sorry, have you not been around the past ten years? Were you not there when Naomi convinced all of you that it was my fault Irma was dead? Were you not at all the holiday parties during which I was either ignored or tormented for it? And you think I should just get over it? It's gonna take a lot more than a pep talk and a glossing-over at a family reunion to fix me, so I'm so fucking sorry if I can't handle visiting her grave!" Cas sets his plate down on the side table next to him, gets up, and storms out.   
  
***  
  
Everyone leaves Cas alone for the rest of the night. When Dean goes upstairs, he finds the bedroom door not quite closed and when he pushes through, Cas is curled up on himself, facing away from the door, wearing only his boxers. Dean shuts the door behind him and toes off his shoes, leaving them by Cas' desk. He climbs up onto the bed, and spoons around Cas, his arm snaking under Castiel's crossed arms and around his waist.  
  
"They don't understand," Cas mutters to his arms.   
  
"I know, baby."  
  
"They can't expect me to just be better because they've tried to be my family again. It doesn't work like that."  
  
"I think that it's great that they're trying," Dean says, trying to reason with him. "I think they deserve more credit. They're not all that bad."   
  
"Oh really?"  
  
"Mike and Luke showed me the entertainment system in the basement today. There's a karaoke machine. Luke couldn't stop laughing, trying to get some story out about some time they all got wasted or high or some shit, and Raphael sang a Shania Twain song and Gabe sang Ricky Martin." Dean thinks Cas might be smiling, if only for a moment.   
  
"I just -- I feel so guilty about what happened. I shouldn't have been driving, I shouldn't have taken her to that party. I definitely shouldn't have been falling asleep at the wheel."  
  
"Cas, you fucked up. It's not a big deal, everyone does."  
  
"Novaks don't."  
  
"You aren't talking about  _your_  family, are you?" Cas rolls over onto his back and frowns up at Dean. "Castiel, your dad's in hiding because he got sloppy. Two of your brothers are in some kind of weird twincesty relationship that I really don't want to know the details of. Your sister only just realized how untrue to herself she was being about six years ago, while she was basically stalking you."  
  
"But they didn't kill someone."  
  
"You didn't, either. Cas, it was the other driver's fault. Everyone thinks so. And even if it was your fault, which it wasn't, you can't let one bad decision rule the rest of your life. You're not the mistakes you make."  
  
***  
  
Dean sleeps wrapped around Cas, hands curling over tattoos and his head right over the swallow with Irma's name in it. Cas lies there, awake, listening to Dean's breathing and thinking about what's been said over the past couple days.  
  
He is not the mistakes he makes.   
  
Everyone's a little screwed up in his family.  
  
Irma's death was not his fault.   
  
Surprisingly, the last one is the hardest to wrap his mind around. It echoes through his brain, bouncing off the walls of his skull, present, like a fact learned in a science class, but not something Castiel truly  _believes_.  
  
He glances toward the window, where the sky is fading light gray as the sun slowly rises. It looks like rain, he thinks absently. He'd forgotten how often it rains on the east coast; California living does that to a person.  
  
Dean shifts in his sleep, nuzzling into Cas' chest, fist clenching and unclenching around nothing. Cas thinks that he might wake up, just for a second, but then he settles, his lips parting as he breathes through his mouth softly.   
  
Cas could spend the rest of his life in this moment, right here: dawn breaking, Dean asleep, and he, surprisingly, at peace with everything, even his own mind.  
  
***  
  
There's a steady drizzle tap-dancing on the roof by the time Dean wakes up. Cas dozed for the next few hours but doesn't feel as exhausted as he probably should. Still, he makes sure his first cup of coffee is extra strong.   
  
"Are you going?" Anna asks when she walks into the kitchen, dressed in a nearly-black navy henley and dark jeans and flats. "We're leaving in an hour." When it becomes clear to her that Cas has no fucking clue what she's talking about, she explains. "Irma's grave." Dean looks at Cas over the cup of coffee that seems to have attached itself to his lips.   
  
"I don't know." Anna purses her lips, clearly frustrated, but when she glances at Dean, who's waving her off, she seems to relax. She throws one last squinty look at him, and turns on her heel to go into the family room and settle on the couch next to Jo. Dean drains the coffee cup for what has to be the third time, and instead of refilling it, he sets it in the huge sink, which is piled with dishes and coffee cups and juice glasses and silverware that will probably get washed by whoever loses rock-paper-scissors next. He takes Cas' cup gently, fingertips gripping around the top, and sets it next to the sink and pulls him upstairs.   
  
"Dean, I'm not -- I don't think it's a good idea," Cas protests as Dean closes his old bedroom door behind them. Dean lets go of his hand and pulls his shirt off one-handed. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Taking a shower," Dean answers innocently. "I wanna meet your sister, Cas, and no offense to your room, but I smell like it. What did you even  _do_  in here back then?"  
  
"Weed, mostly," Cas says with a straight face. Dean chuckles, but he's not completely sure Cas is joking.  
  
"Well, I'm sure she'll appreciate me washing off the stoner scent when I visit her. I doubt she wants her gravestone smelling like a frat," Dean says, now down to his boxers as he walks into the bathroom and starts the shower. He sticks his head through the door. "Are you coming?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Jesus, Cas, c'mon," Dean says, walking across the room again and pulling Cas in by his arm.   
  
"Dean, I just don't -- she  _died_ , Dean," he whines, sounding so pathetic as Dean eases the white V-neck that he only wears for his family's sake over his head and onto the tile floor. Dean pecks a light kiss to his lips.   
  
"I know, babe, that's why we're going to a cemetery." Dean hooks his thumbs into Cas' pants, drags them down in one quick, fluid movement.   
Cas goes commando when he sleeps. He steps out of his pants miserably. Dean smirks at him, sticks a hand under the running water and decides it's good enough for him. He tugs his boxers off quickly and drags the shower curtain all the way over and steps into the shower, pulling Cas behind him gently.  
  
It's a tight fit with the two of them but Dean's not exactly looking for personal space when he showers with Cas. They're practically chest-to-chest under the spray. Cas leans in, buries his face in the crook of Dean's neck, and Dean laughs, softly, arm snaking around Cas' waist and hand resting right on the small of his back.   
  
"They'll all be there, too," Cas mumbles into Dean's skin. "Watching me."  
  
"Don't think about them," Dean murmurs into his hair, pulling him a little tighter to him. "You are naked in the shower with your boyfriend. Focus on that."  
  
"Mmm," Cas hums an agreement, one hand coming up to his shoulder, the other wrapping around Dean, mirroring his arm. "And what do you propose we do?"  
  
"We've got an hour," Dean says, smirking. He tilts his head just as Cas lifts his off Dean's shoulder. They meet in the middle for a dry -- as dry as they can be in a shower -- kiss that Dean quickly deepens. Cas kisses back, keeping up with Dean's pace and shifting when he feels Dean's now hard cock poking him in the hip and when his own gets in the way. Dean smiles into the kiss, but doesn't stop, just runs his tongue over Cas' teeth and slots their hips together so their cocks brush against each other. Cas moans into the kiss and Dean just smirks, breaks the kiss but rests his forehead against Cas' and rolls his hips forward again. Cas inhales shakily, and Dean huffs a laugh that chokes off when Cas snaps forward suddenly.  
  
"Jesus, Cas," Dean half-whispers as Cas finds a rhythm that Dean matches. Dean reaches down, starts jerking Cas off. Cas makes a desperate whining noise in the back of his throat and grips Dean's hips, tight, keeping him there. On a down-stroke, Dean lines up his cock with Cas' and starts jerking them together as Cas arches up into Dean's grip. Dean catches Cas' lips a couple times, but Cas is panting too hard for them to really kiss properly.   
  
Cas' hips start to stutter, losing rhythm and that's when Dean knows he's close, so he runs a thumb over the head of Cas' cock and Cas whines, maybe a little too loud, and Dean just presses in closer and kisses him insistently, with teeth and tongue and Cas comes all over Dean's hand and lower stomach, and his own cock. He jerks him through the orgasm and when it's over Cas reaches down, bats Dean's hand out of the way, and starts stroking him quickly, efficiently, as his other hand comes up behind Dean's head to pull their mouths even closer together. Dean comes with Cas' hand on his cock and Cas' mouth on his, teeth pulling at his lower lip.   
  
Of course, after that, they shower properly. Dean washes Cas' hair and Cas washes Dean's; by the time they get out of the shower Cas seems much more relaxed. They get dressed and they're about to leave Cas' room when Cas freezes by the door.   
  
"Y'okay?" Dean says. Cas is staring at the doorknob, almost in a trance, when he suddenly shakes his head as if to clear it, and looks up at Dean. He nods, presses a kiss to Dean's lips, and takes his hand as they walk down the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

"You've gotten this far, Cas, get out of the car."  
  
"No."  
  
The Impala is parked in the lot by the cemetery. Cas is sitting in the passenger's seat next to Dean, refusing to move. Anna and Jo are in the back, watching the argument back and forth, like a tennis match.  
  
"You can't make me get any closer than I already am," Cas says stubbornly.  
  
"Cas, it's a goddamned rock with some writing on it, with some motherfucking grass in front of it. There is literally nothing scary about it except for the fact that there's a box six feet under it with bones in it."  
  
"Ashes."  
  
"Okay, there's a fucking urn under it. It's okay. They're not gonna dig themselves up, remake a zombie version of Irma, and come after you."  
  
"We're gonna get this started," Anna says after a moment of awkward silence, opening the door and sliding out, Jo close behind her. As they walk past, Jo shoots Dean a dirty look through the window. Dean raises his arms in a "What did I do?" sort of way, but her head is already turned and she's half-running to catch up with Anna and lace her fingers between hers.  
  
***  
  
"We decided not to crowd you. You never liked it when all the focus was on you. I remember that about you," Anna says, sitting crisscrossed on the damp grass in front of the gravestone. "We're gonna come in waves. Groups of two or three. We've all got a lot to tell you." Anna looks at her hands, and then she sits up straight. She turns and waves Jo over. Jo squats next to her, hand on Anna's shoulder to steady her.  
  
"Irma, this is my wife, Jo," Anna says, her smile tight. "We got married a few years ago. I wasn't -- Dad and Naomi weren't happy about it. I wasn't allowed home for a while. I would've introduced you sooner. I'm sorry."  
  
"Hello, Irma," Jo says quietly.  
  
"I hope you don't mind," Anna says, and her voice sounds thick even though she's definitely not crying. "But she's in the running for my favorite girl now." Anna laughs wetly. "She's -- Irm, you'd love her. Absolutely love her."  
  
***  
  
"So, another two years in jail, and then I had a parole officer, which was a fuckin' joke, let me tell you." Mike frowns disapprovingly at Luke, who's leaned up against the gravestone, cigarette dangling between his fingers. Gabe thinks he might be exaggerating his accent, like he did whenever he talked to Irma after his first stint. It used to make her giggle. "Mikey still doesn't have a sense of humor, surprise-surprise."   
  
"It's disrespectful," Mike hisses. Balthazar rolls his eyes.  
  
"Irma wouldn't have cared," Luke shoots back. "She and I were buddies."  
  
"She was your little sister," Mike says tensely.  
  
"Lovebirds, take it somewhere else so I can chat with my sister," Gabe says. Mike and Luke both shoot him a dirty look, but Luke straightens and allows himself to be led away from the grave. "Cassie's here. I'm prepping you. He's -- he's not doing too great. He still blames himself for what happened to you. We're trying to convince him to forgive himself. And then to join our We Hate Naomi club. You would've been VP."  
  
"Are you done talking to the rock?" Balthazar asks. Gabe scowls at him, but nods, starts walking back. Balthazar lingers.  
  
"Sorry I haven't been around lately," he says quietly. "I don't like being here. They're miserable. I can't handle their angst like you did. London's much better. You'd like London."  
  
***  
  
"Let me tell you two things about your brother that you should know before I go on my rant. I love him, and he's a goddamned wuss," Dean says, plopping himself down in front of Irma's gravestone. "Dean, by the way. I'm Cas' boyfriend. And another thing, Irma, your family is fuckin' insane. I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to talk about this, but Mike and Luke? Are way too cozy for it to be a normal relationship. Raphael's a fuckin' control freak who gave me a dog bed to sleep on because apparently it doesn't mean anything that I've lived with your brother for the past year and a half. They've all been terrorized to within an inch of their lives by your control freak parents and their connections with -- I'm not even sure. The mob? You've probably got that whole I'm-in-heaven, I-see-all thing going on, so you probably know, even if I don't. But for real. Your stepmom -- I guess she was your second, since Cas' biological mom was your first mom, right? Naomi or whatever, she had Cas believing it was his fault you're dead. From what everyone's told me -- which isn't much, can you please Swayze your way over and, like, get them talking or something? -- you two were partners in crime and it's a goddamn shame that he's too scared to visit you, even when you're like this." Dean takes a breath, pauses. Lets her think about everything he's said.   
  
"Seriously, Irm -- can I call you Irm? You don't even wanna know what I had to do to get him this far, and even now he's looking at some old lady's grave, pretending to be super interested in the fact that she died of pneumonia or something. So here I am, talking to you, and you don't even know me." He reads over her name, her birth date, the day she died, her epitaph. "Jeez, who picked that quote out? It's morbid as hell. I get the feeling you weren't like that, were you? You loved to draw. You and Cas, you guys were tight. He probably hates it, too. I don't even know you and I know this isn't something you would've wanted. It was your parents, I bet. Do you hate it? I'll bet my car you do." Dean leans around. Cas has moved a row closer to them. "He's closing in, Irm. Are you ready for this because there will probably be tears, and angst, and he's gonna show you all his tattoos, so he'll probably strip -- oh, maybe that won't be so bad."  
  
"What are you saying?" Cas asks as he slowly walks closer.   
  
"I'm becoming Irma's best friend, obviously. She's totally giggling right now." Dean flashes him a huge smile. Cas rolls his eyes and kneels down next to him. "Look who decided to join us."  
  
"Hello, Irma," Cas says quietly, a rumble in his chest. Dean rolls his eyes.  
  
"Was he this formal with you when you were alive, too?" Dean asks. Cas side-eyes him. "Oh, c'mon, Cas, we've been talking for like five minutes already. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm awesome."  
  
"She doesn't live with you," Cas says, a smile forming in spite of himself.   
  
"You chose to move in with me. I told you it was a zero-pressure offer when I brought it up," Dean says, nudging him playfully. Cas lets out one half-breathless laugh. "So, Irm, Cas here's got your name all over himself."  
  
"Your art, too," Cas says to the grass.   
  
"Her what?"  
  
"The owl. The dream-catcher. The dragonfly. They're hers."  
  
"Oh." Dean thinks about this for a moment. "Remember how I said you needed to Swayze your way down here and dream-talk some sense into your family? Well, him too. Dream-talk his way through his guilt so he can start moving on. No offense, Irma, but you've been dead for ten years, and he doesn't listen to any of us, even your siblings, who've tried to apologize, even if it  _was_  in their own _fucked_ -up way." Cas looks at him, eyes wide. Dean keeps talking, though. "Like, for real, if I were you, I would've already bitch-slapped him in a dream. Unless maybe you don't have that I-see-all thing going on. Is it concentrated on here? Can you not see him in California?"  
  
"Dean," Cas says quietly.  
  
"What? It's a valid question. When I die, I want all-seeing power. Am I gonna die and be disappointed? I gotta know these things, Cas!" Dean looks at the gravestone one last time. "I'm gonna let you talk to your brother. You guys got a lot to discuss. Nice meeting you, Irma." Dean claps a hand to Cas' shoulder, says, "I'll wait with the car," and gets up and heads back for the parking lot.  
  
Anna and Jo are waiting in the Impala already.  
  
"What'd you say?" Jo asks when he slides into the driver's seat.  
  
"I talked to your sister," Dean shrugs. "I think she likes me."  
  
***  
  
"So that was Dean," Cas says after Dean's out of earshot. "I hope someone warned you about him." He picks at a stray piece of grass, longer than the rest. The grass is damp from the morning rain but Cas doesn't mind.   
  
"Your full name is on the inside of my arm, here." Cas lifts up his arm, points to where it's written on the inside of his bicep. "I have Irma on a bird here." He motions to the swallow over his shoulder. "And I've got your owl and dream-catcher on my ribs and your dragonfly on my foot." He looks at the ground again. "You probably would've slapped me if you were able to."   
  
"I'm sorry you died," Cas says after a moment. "I'm sorry I was driving when you died. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to help you like I should've back then. We were both just trying to survive. You weren't dealing with it the same way I was. I wish I'd noticed.  
  
"I -- I wish you'd been alive when I graduated. I would've taken you with me. I know that logically it wouldn't have made sense, you were still in high school, I was going to be in a dorm full-time, but I would've gotten you out. I'm pretty sure that Gabe and Balthazar would've tried to help me. Maybe Anna, too. Why weren't you wearing a seatbelt, Irma?" Cas demands suddenly. "Why, of all the stupid things -- if you had been, you'd be alive right now. Why didn't I make sure you were wearing one?" he asks himself quietly, but then realizes what he's said. "See? This is what happened, after you died. I think everything's my fault. Of course, I thought that way before, too. Between our father, and Eve, and Naomi, and our mother leaving suddenly, we didn't have a chance. No wonder you did what you did."   
  
Cas falls silent for a while. He picks at the grass, reads over her gravestone. "Dean's right. Your epitaph sucks."   
  
"I'm going to go now. I'm holding them all up. I'm sorry I haven't been visiting. I'll try more, from now on, since it's looking like they're forgiving me." Cas stands up, touches the gravestone. "Love you. See you later."  
  
***  
  
"I'm working on Marv," Raphael says to Dean that afternoon, while Dean's chopping raw meat to be seared.   
  
"What?"  
  
"To get the money for you and Castiel," he clarifies. Dean nods once.  
  
"Well, uh, thanks, man, but shouldn't you be telling Cas that?"  
  
"He's in a frenzy at the moment. Drawing. Refuses to talk to anyone."  
  
"Oh," Dean says, turning back to the meat. Raphael leans in slightly.  
  
"Aren't you concerned?" Dean looks up from the meat, turns to face Raphael, brandishing the knife just enough that he feels like he might have the edge in this conversation.  
  
"He does that sometimes. Sam's sophomore year, over Christmas break, we took him back to Kansas. I woke up early on Christmas and found him downstairs, in front of the tree, with eight different drawings of the tree around him. He'd sat in front of it in different places and drew the damn tree. By the time we were settling in for dinner he'd done fifteen. He once didn't leave the couch because he was drawing the goddamn side table and lamp, only for me to find out that Kat Von D was dropping in at the parlor the following week. So, no, I'm not worried. He's stressed. He's gonna draw. I'll make sure he eats, and you should probably leave him alone for a while." Raphael nods, maybe a little dazed, and walks away. Jo side-eyes him from the sink where she's snapping open pea pods.  
  
"You okay, Dean?"  
  
"Annoyed," Dean mutters.   
  
"Is this about the cemetery?"  
  
"It's about everything. I've had enough. I love Cas, and you know that, but I cannot take another day of no one telling me anything, and having to fill in the blanks myself. I just -- I wanna know why everyone's walking on eggshells around everyone, you know? I wanna understand." Jo nods, glances around.  
  
"Well, I probably don't have to tell you this, but Mike and Luke are kind of --"  
  
"No. That's one thing I  _don't_ want clarification about," Dean cuts her off. Jo snorts.  
  
"Okay. I'll spare you those details, then."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"I forgot to knock," Jo says, shrugging. "I mean, I kinda already knew, so seeing it wasn't really a shock or anything. And, I mean, aside from it being really freaky because they're brothers, they're not really hurting anyone, right? I mean, neither of them can, y'know, _reproduce_  with each other, so it's not like they can make really genetically fucked-up kids, so I think, on a sort-of-okay scale, it's pretty okay, relatively."  
  
"I'm not even gonna try to respond to that," Dean says, chopping up the final steak and throwing it into the bowl. "Now or later?"  
  
"Anna has a thing she wants to do to them, let her deal with that," Jo says, waving a hand at the bowl. Dean nods, wipes his hands on a towel and drops the knife in the sink. "Are you gonna try to get Cas out for dinner?"  
  
"We'll see," Dean says. Cas' artist binges are like hurricanes, and if he times it just right, Dean can catch him at the eye of the storm just long enough to make sure he doesn't pass out from hunger or dehydration before he goes into his next wave of crushing creativity.  
  
***  
  
He finds the floor littered with drawings when he goes into Cas' old room. Cas is sitting, crisscrossed, on his bed, wrists resting on his knees, a charcoal pencil dangling loosely from one hand. He's frowning at the drawing pad in front of him, almost all of the pages torn neatly out at the binding. It's a half-finished portrait, but of who, Dean can't tell.  
  
"Cas?" He looks up suddenly, as if he didn't hear Dean come in. He probably didn't. "We're having dinner downstairs now. Do you wanna eat something?" Cas looks back at his drawing, sketches something, and sets the charcoal down on the paper carefully. Both hands are smudged with black, almost up to his elbows, covering his tattoos. "You should probably clean up before you go down there. I think the twins would kill you."  
  
"Hester might," Cas says absently. "She never liked me." He walks across his room, carefully avoiding the papers, and starts scrubbing at his hands in the bathroom sink.  
  
"Are you okay?" Dean asks.  
  
"I yelled at her today," Cas replies. "Irma. Not for the whole time, but for a good chunk of it, I yelled."  
  
"Okay," Dean says. "You feeling better about anything?"  
  
"Not as much as I thought I would." Cas turns off the water, dries his hands on the dark blue towel hanging on the ring next to the sink. His forearms are still smudged but he rolls down his cardigan sleeves over them and hides it. Dean leads him out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen. Cas looks around at the people in it, filling plates buffet-style.  
  
"Is Marv here?"  
  
"No, he hasn't come back from whatever he's doing," Dean says.   
  
"Maybe he's in the harbor," Cas says, maybe a little hopeful.   
  
"C'mon, Cassie, we both know that's not possible. The man doesn't  _die_ ," Luke says, booping Cas' nose with the handle of his fork as he passes them.  
  
"Don't do that," Cas swats at nothing, Luke already passing by and grinning wickedly. Luke settles on the couch, next to Mike, leaning into him just slightly. Cas rolls his eyes, nudges Dean toward the tiny kitchen table, where Anna, Jo, Gabe, and Balthazar are squished up on one side, elbowing each other and arguing over nothing.  
  
"So, Cassie, when are you gonna come visit me in London?" Balthazar asks.  
  
"We'll visit when we can drive there," Cas says, glancing at Dean. "Dean doesn't like planes."  
  
"Like hell you will. Do you know how long I've been trying to convince him to visit me?" Balthazar says to Dean. "Since Eve left. Eve. He's used every excuse in the book, I swear." Balthazar stabs at a chunk of meat irritably.   
  
"To be fair, Balth, your flat isn't exactly spacious," Anna says around a mouthful of salad.   
  
"What are you talking about? It's a fucking duplex, what more could you want?"   
  
"Your  _apartment_?" Gabe says, incredulous. "Dude, it's barely the size of the kitchen."   
  
"Who the fuck have  _you_  been staying with? My flat's huge in comparison to other flats!" Dean, who's been chuckling through this whole conversation, glances over at Cas. He's got a strange look on his face, almost like he's smiling, but not quite. He's watching the conversation play out ("You're all a bunch of wankers, you know that? See if I ever have you lot 'round ever again.") and he glances down at his lap, and he's actually laughing quietly to himself.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam and Jess come back from Connecticut two days after Irma's birthday. Those two days are a mix of Dean finally finding out the whole story about Irma (not just the one-sided views of her death from various family members, but her life, too), getting a proper tour of the house instead of the half-assed one he'd gotten upon arrival, and actually getting along with most of Cas' family. The youngest Novak (or whatever their last name is; he's noticed that there are a lot of different ones), Alfie, is the only one still in school. He's at Boston University, studying art history and Greek mythology, hoping to work at a museum when he graduates. Inias ("Call me Ian. Seriously.") is the only one, apart from Balthazar, and who’s still "involved" in the family business -- whatever it is; no one's told Dean yet -- that doesn't live in the Boston area.

 

 

Marv returns the day before Sam and Jess get back, clearly not in the harbor like Cas had hoped, but definitely roughed up. He refuses help when Anna offers to get him an ice pack for the black eye, just trudges into the master bedroom and locks the door behind him.

"I could steal his check book," Gabe says thoughtfully after dinner, while Dean is texting Sam about pickup times from the train station.

"And do what?  _You_  know how to forge his signature?" Jo replies.

"Hey, Luke!" Gabe says, tilting his head up, trying and failing to look over the back of the couch.

"What?"

"You still got that artist buddy?"

"The cat burglar or the forger?"

"The forger."

"Yeah, why?"

"Is he currently in jail?"

"The fuck, dude?" Luke flips over the back of the couch, sitting upside-down next to Gabe.

"We need a signature forged," Gabe says.

"Whose?"

"Marv's." Luke snorts.

"Dude, I got his, Dad's, Naomi's, and Mikey's down. Gimme the thing you need signed."

"I'd rather not go to federal prison, if that's all right with you all," Cas says, seemingly reminding his brothers that he's there.

"Oh. Sorry, Cassie," Gabe says sheepishly, but Dean sees him and Luke nod at each other conspiratorially.

***

Sam and Jess' train gets in early the next morning, so when Dean leaves no one else is awake yet. He picks them up just outside South Station, Jess' hair twisted up and away from her face, wearing her glasses, and Sam's hair in a fucking ponytail.

"It's that kinda day, huh?" Dean says as Sam slides into shotgun.

"Shut up, it's hot out," Sam whines. "Can we stop somewhere for breakfast?"

"You wanna miss Jo's cooking?" Dean asks. "She and Anna take over the kitchen every morning. It's like I'm on vacation."

"With your in-laws," Jess says from the back seat.

"Baby, I love you and your family, but there's no way in hell I'm doing what Dean's doing with them," Sam says, looking at her in the rearview.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Sam, don't worry," Jess says. "I wouldn't even do that to  _myself_."

"So, bad visit with Tom and Lorraine?" Dean says.

"Asked for a baptism date," Jess grumbles.

"And then tried to convince her to move back east," Sam says. "Added me in on the deal as an afterthought."

"I thought they liked you!"

"My sister brought her boyfriend home for the summer. He's studying to be a doctor," Jessica sighs. "It's too bad he's not a vegetarian, or they might actually have a chance."

"Are you sure she's still on that? I swear I saw her eat a burger," Sam says.

"What, being a lawyer's not good enough anymore?" Dean says, frowning slightly.

"Apparently, I lack morality," Sam says, bitch face raging.

"And by that, my mother means she wants us to go to church," Jess adds.

"Two of Cas' brothers, I'm pretty sure, have some kind of weird incestuous relationship going. He's got these twin cousins who kinda remind me of those two characters from Pokémon who run around finishing each other's sentences in rhyme, and then he's got this brother and cousin who I'm pretty sure exist solely to make sex jokes out of everything everyone says," Dean says. "So, while I'm sure Tom and Lorraine were no picnic, I think I win."

***

They arrive at the Novak house just in time for a shouting match.

Luke is being restrained by Balthazar and Mike, nearly purple in the face and screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. Across the kitchen, Marv is just standing there, arms crossed, seemingly waiting for Luke to run out of steam.

"--And you know what, you fuckin bag of dicks?  _I'll_  write him the goddamn check, if it means I get to see his inked-up ass again, because it's because of  _you_  and your fuckin  _sister-in-law_  and  _brother_  that I don't get to see  _my_  brother anymore! It's  _your_  goddamn fault that he hates it here! I hope they put you in the mawthahfuckin’  _harbor_!"

"What's going on?" Dean whispers to Anna, who's watching from the safety of a loveseat in the family room, on the outskirts of the action.

"Cas and Marv were discussing the money amount that Cas should be getting and it doesn't take a genius to realize that Cas was getting cheated, so he called him on it, and Marv ripped up the check. Luke wasn't too happy," Anna replies, quickly and under her breath.

"Hey, Cas, why don't you have an accent like that?" Sam whispers. Cas looks at him, confused for a second, but then understands.

"Luke's spent some time in jail."

" _Some_  time?" Anna whispers incredulously. Cas shrugs.

"Castiel." Everyone's heads snap up. Marv is approaching them slowly. "Perhaps this was blown out of proportion. Surely we can come to some sort of agreement about this."

"I don't know how much I like your agreements," Dean says. Marv smirks condescendingly.

"How about, five hundred grand each to you and your boy-toy, and you never bother us again."

"Us?" It seems to chorus through the family room and kitchen, out of time, but the question echoes in unison.

"Go back to your life in California. Pretend this week never happened. And I can guarantee none of them will come harassing you ever again."

"Where's our million, then?" Anna says, standing up. "I live on the west coast, too, and if that's seriously your offer, then Jo and I want our million."

"I live in London, I'd love a payout of this bullshit we call a family reunion," Balthazar says, raising a hand from the couch Marv is standing behind. "In pounds sterling, if that's all right with you."

"We're not planning on moving," Mike says, glancing at Luke, "But how much do we get if we agree to never speak to you again?"

"What?" Marv is taken aback, confused by the sudden call for money he's definitely not willing to fork over, if the hands clenched deep in his pockets are any clue. Dean could laugh at this, but he knows it's too serious for that.

"Y'know, Uncle Marv, I'm not entirely sure you're legally allowed to pay them out," Hester says, and it's the first thing Dean's heard her say that's -- indirectly -- supportive of Cas. "Since the money belongs to the family company, and you only own -- I think it's a sixteenth? Not nearly enough to pay all of us out."

"I -- I don't understand."

"We want whatever the fuck you're offering Cas," Luke says, slowly, like he's a kindergarten teacher underneath all the drugs and convictions. "Because if he's leaving, we'll follow him."

***

"When we get a house, it's not gonna be this big."

It's three in the morning. They're leaving the house in a few hours, going back to California, but from the looks of things, they'll be visiting again. Marv was run out shortly after the demand for cash from all of them. However, before he left, Gabe managed to lift his checkbook, the corporate one, and Luke forged both their father's and Marv's signature onto the check, along with a cash amount Dean's trying not to think about ("It will go entirely to the house, Dean, I promise.").

"Agreed," Cas whispers back. "Three bedrooms?"

"Three?"

"Well, they don't have to  _be_  bedrooms," Cas says. Dean rolls onto his side and faces him. Cas has a hand up behind his head, and he's looking at the ceiling. He turns his head down slightly, looks at Dean.

"Cas, are Sam and Jess giving you  _baby fever?_ " Dean says, chortling. Cas hip-checks him. Or tries to; it's hard to do, lying down. Dean laughs harder, but quietly. It is three in the morning, after all.

"I'm just thinking. I mean, I took you home to meet my family. I'm not getting rid of you anytime soon." Something in Dean's chest swells at Cas' words. He shifts a little closer, resting his head right above Cas' armpit, wrapping an arm around his torso.

"I want an open living room. Like, so the hallway on the second floor looks over it. You should have an art space." Cas looks at him fully now. "Dude, you're really good. You should, like, paint or something. Put out art for people to buy."

"Paint?" Cas sounds amused by the idea.

"You did watercolor when you were younger," Dean says half-defensively.

"I did," Cas concedes. "I like charcoal and pencil now, too."

"Well, do that, then," Dean says. "Put on an art show. We live in goddamned San Francisco, Cas, you can put on an art show."

"I think I want a hot tub, too," Cas says absently, barely a whisper. "That'd be nice."

"You'd never get out of it," Dean mumbles into Cas' shoulder. Cas laughs quietly, shaking them both. "That would be nice, though."

"We need to sleep," Cas says.

"But houses," Dean half-whines, sleep lacing his words.

"When we get back home we can start looking," Cas promises, shifting himself and Dean so they're almost nose-to-nose, Cas' arm wrapped around Dean's waist, matching him. "Go to sleep."

***

Sam drives the first leg because Dean's not fully-functional by the time they leave. Anna and Jo are sticking around a day longer and then flying back, but they wake up early to see them off. In fact, almost all of the Novaks do. The only ones they don't see are Mike and Luke, but as they're backing out of the driveway, Cas thinks he sees Luke, half hanging out the window, clearly propped up against Mike, waving. Dean doesn't see, because he's already asleep on Cas' shoulder before Sam even starts the car.

Dean wakes up a couple hours later at a rest stop, trudges out of the car and makes his way over to the coffee station inside, with Cas following him close behind. As they're waiting (one crunchy caramel thing for Sam, an iced tea latte for Jess, an iced light roast flavored vanilla for Cas, and the biggest iced coffee they can make for Dean), Dean leans into Cas' shoulder, too decaffeinated to function.

"Hey, one more thing, 'bout the house," he says as Cas starts putting their drinks into a carrying tray.

"What's that?"

"We should put up Irma's art," Dean says. "In, like, frames and shit. I wanna see them. She did your tattoos, right?"

"A few of them," Cas says quietly as he steers them away. Dean tries to take his coffee out of the tray, but Cas swats his hands away and Dean makes a whining noise. They slide into the back seat and Cas starts distributing the coffee.

"Don't get any of that sugary shit on my seats, Sammy, they'll be a bitch to clean," Dean grumbles, jamming his straw into the lid.

"Shut up and drink your coffee, Dean," Sam says. In the rearview, he can see Dean flipping him off. He just snorts, passes Jess his cup, and starts the car.

***

Anna calls around noon the first day.

"I had to take Marv's checkbook," she tells Dean. "Luke was writing checks to everyone out of the company's bank account and as much as I'd like to screw our father and uncle over, I think we need to go about doing that in a more legal way."

"I'd hate to see you all end up like the Bluths," Dean teases. Anna laughs.

"No, I think we like each other more than that, after the past few days."

"How's Jo doing?"

"I think she might be playing poker with Balthazar and Gabe, and I think she might be hustling them," Anna says thoughtfully. "If we come home wearing men's watches and wearing obscenely-priced sunglasses, you'll know."

"They wouldn't bet their watches," Dean says incredulously. Cas frowns at him.

"Who wouldn't what?" Cas says.

"I don't know, it looks like Jo just went all in. I can't tell if she has a really good hand or if she's playing chicken with them," Anna half-whispers into the phone. "Gabe just folded. Balthazar is giving her a look that I would call bedroom eyes if it weren't for the fact that he's playing with a lesbian."

"How much do they have left?"

"Gabe's got about -- it looks like a couple hundred? Balthazar's about to lose. Oh, he's out. Jo wasn't bluffing."

"How's everyone doing? Anyone dead yet?" Dean asks.

"I thought I heard Luke conspiring with Ian and Alfie to put a hit out on Marv, but Mike overheard and pointed out that the Irish and the Italian mobs probably already do."

"Well, listen, Anna, when we get back, me and Cas are gonna start looking at houses --"

"Ohmygod,  _together?_ " she squeals, too loud, into the phone. On the other end, Dean can hear the slight din of the Novaks suddenly silence.

"Jesus Christ, Anna," Dean hisses.

"Okay, okay, continue," she says, clearly trying to contain herself.

"We're gonna start looking at houses, and we were gonna ask you and Jo to come along but I'm really not feeling it anymore, after whatever that was, so --"

"Oh, shut up, Dean, give us dates and times and we'll be there. We can help decorate!"

"Yeah, sure. I gotta go, we're pulling into a rest stop. See you when you get back."

"Tell everyone I said hi!" she says cheerily. Dean hangs up.

"How's Anna?" Sam says, turning the car off.

"I think she's high," Dean says.

"She probably found the stash," Jess says, getting out of the car, prompting all three men to look at each other, confused and somewhat concerned. They get out of the car, tripping over their own feet trying to catch up with her.

"Uh, babe?"

"There was a baggie under the bed in Irma's room," Jess says, shrugging, sliding her sunglasses over her eyes. "It might've been Anna's, but it was there."

"Does pot have an expiration date?" Cas whispers to Dean.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Your questionable community college years."

"I didn't do pot!"

"Yes, you did," Sam chimes in from ahead.

***

"What about this one?"

"No, Cas, I said no freaky towers. I don't wanna live in a goddamn museum."

"Look at the price. We could take it down and remodel it."

"No."

"Fine." They've been at this for three hours now. It's Sunday, both their days off. Sam and Jess are parked in front of the TV, catching up on their shows, as is the custom on a rare rainy day. Dean and Castiel have taken over the kitchen table with listings, red X's through almost all of them.

Sam gets up, walks past them, side-eyeing the listings as he goes to refill the chip bowl he and Jess (mostly Jess but no one's about to point that out to her) have finished for the second time. As he's walking back, he stops and tilts his head to read one of the listings.

"What about this one, guys?" Sam says, pointing at a farmhouse, not unlike his own.

"No," they reply together.

"Why not?"

"Because the first thing out of Mom's mouth will be, 'why did you buy the same house as Sam?'" Dean says, putting on a high but not mocking voice.

"Besides, Sam, as charming as your house is, I don't think it would suit us," Cas says, with a little more tact than Dean.

"Maybe we should just get another apartment, invest the money in the stock market, or save it for another rainy day or something," Dean says, dropping the listing on the table. Cas looks down at it, frowns, and pulls it toward himself. "What?"

"What about this one?" he asks, tapping a house. It looks like it's in the woods, with a sloping driveway and a house that looks dimly lit in the grainy black and white photograph.

"It's worth a visit."


	9. Chapter 9

Six Months Later

Whatever possessed Dean and Castiel to host Christmas and New Year's has exorcised itself from them long before the holidays, but the damage is already done by December. Balthazar and Gabe arrive first, three weeks before Christmas. Cas and Dean are still eating Thanksgiving leftovers for dinner on lazy nights. Closely following them, just by a few days, are Luke and Mike, who not-so-quietly (Luke fights Mike the whole time while unpacking) take over the only remaining bedroom. 

After that, the Novaks (and Mary, who, thankfully, is staying with Sam, Jess, and Stella) descend, staying on couches, encroaching on Balthazar's and Gabe's shared room (no one goes near Mike and Luke's), even spilling over to Anna and Jo's place, which provides Anna with a never-ending string of complaints at work for Dean.

Dean has to work on Christmas Eve which bums him out but at the same time isn't quite so bad. The kids are all excited this time of year, even the really sick ones, and Christmas is one of the few times of year he sees them forget about the fact that they're all in a hospital.

Lily, a pale blonde girl with a heart condition that makes her almost blue, is fidgeting with her hand where the IV drip feeds into her bloodstream when he comes in to check on her.

"Lily," Dean says, making his "stern nurse" face that makes Sam fall on the ground laughing. "What are you doing?"

"It itches, Nurse-Dean," she whines, saying "Nurse-Dean" like it's one word, like all the kids do. Dean checks the catheter and the tubes.

"It's all fine, Lil," he tells her. "Don't mess with it."

"But it itches!"

"If you leave it alone, it'll stop," he promises. "You feeling okay?"

"Uh-huh," she says, shrugging a little. "My parents said they were bringing my grandparents to visit tomorrow!"

"That's exciting!"

"Are you gonna be here tomorrow to see?"

"No, me and Anna are entertaining family," Dean says. She tilts her head.

"Anna?"

"Yeah, her whole family came in from Boston."

"Are you and Anna married?"

"She's married to Jo, remember?" It's a little scary, sometimes, how much these kids know about them. 

"So why are you going?"

"Cas is her brother," Dean says. All the kids know who Cas is. Ever since they got back from Boston, he's started visiting him at work: bringing him lunch or coffee; dropping in to say hi or to ask him a very important question about the type of wood they should put in the kitchen floor ("Whatever matches, babe."). 

"Oh." She thinks about it for a moment. "Are you and Cas married?"

"What's with you and the married talk? Are you and Noah thinking about eloping?"

"Dean, don't encourage them," Anna says, walking in with a tray. "Okay, Lily, here's your lunch."

"Thanks, Nurse-Anna." 

"Stop messing with your catheter," Dean tells her one last time before leaving her room to continue making the rounds.

"So what time should we be there?"

"As soon as you can," Dean says. "Don't leave me alone with them for too long."

"It's not that bad," Anna says. "And you volunteered."

"I still don't know why we did that," Dean mutters. 

***

Cas is stretched out on their new bed (a king, with light blue sheets and a dark green comforter, and assorted pillows in what Dean's told are "accent colors") with a sketchpad in front of him, and he's working on a commission for someone who has requested a floral sleeve. Dean flops down next to him, hair damp from a shower, wearing his pajama pants and an old ratty T-shirt.

"Merry Christmas Eve," Cas murmurs, running a hand through Dean’s hair as he shades in a petal.

"Stop doing work," Dean mumbles into the comforter. He rolls over, head landing right next to Cas' hip. He reaches up and takes the sketchpad out of Cas' hands and shoves it toward the foot of the bed.

"I was almost done."

"It's a holiday," Dean whines. "Pay attention to me."

"Don't be a child," Cas says, but he sets his pencil down on his bedside table and Dean worms up a little, completely in Cas' personal space.

"Should we lock our door?"

"Why?"

"Because I have a feeling at least two of your siblings will jump on our bed tomorrow morning."

"They wouldn't do that. Half of them would be afraid of walking in on us having sex, and the other half is too afraid of you in the morning."

"Why?"

"They're under the impression that you're a bear in the morning," Cas says. "I may or may not have started that rumor."

"Listen, I'm all for telling the truth, but if that's seriously keeping them out of our bedroom, I think you should always lie to them."

"It's not entirely untrue," Cas says. "You are a bit of a grump sometimes."

"So are you!"

"Yes, and that's why we work so well together," Cas says, bringing a hand up to the side of Dean's face and pulling him in, kissing him softly. Dean leans in a little bit, nearly loses his balance and almost falls into Cas' lap, but he manages to catch himself and shift closer as Cas opens up his mouth, kicking a leg over Dean's hips and settling in his lap. Cas' hand slides from Dean's cheek to the back of his head and to the now shaggier hair there. 

"I thought Christmas was tomorrow," Dean mumbles against Cas' mouth, and Cas groans. It might be a sexy moan. Dean's not quite sure.

"You are not making unwrapping jokes right now," Cas tells him, pulling away and looking at him with a sternness that may or may not be real.

"Aw, come on, Cas, it's Christmas!"

"No," Cas says, sliding out of Dean's lap.

"No, babe, c'mon, stay," Dean catches the side of Cas' thigh and Cas stops, looks at him. "I'm done, I promise." Cas scrutinizes him for a second. He seems to believe him, because he settles back into Dean's lap, starts kissing him again. This time is lazier, indulgent. Cas' wrists are resting on Dean's shoulders, his fingers brushing at the bottom of Dean's hair. Dean's hands are splayed out in stars on Cas' hips, and as he pulls him closer, Cas' arms bend, wrapping around him, hands climbing into Dean's hair. Dean's hands climb just a little, fingers dancing at the hem of Cas' shirt. He starts tugging it up, over Cas' head, when they hear voices at the doorway.

"Oh, Jesus, Gabriel, what did I tell you? Bad idea!" 

"Lighten up, Balth, I warned you before." Cas flies off Dean's lap, his shirt tangled around his chin and elbows. Dean's knees shoot up under his chin, blocking his obvious erection.

"What the hell?!" 

"We wanted to know what the Wi-Fi password is," Balthazar says. 

"We gave it to you when you got here," Cas says from the other side of the bed, where he's crouching on the floor, desperately trying to pull his shirt back on.

"It's not for us," Gabe says. "It's for Luke. His laptop started working again."

"I don't wanna know. Here" Dean grabs Cas' sketchpad, writes out the numbers and letters, and shoves it at Balthazar and Gabe. "Now go away."

"G'night!" Gabe calls over his shoulder, maybe a little too peppy, as Balthazar drags him away.

"I hate them," Cas whines, his shirt finally fixed. He crawls back up onto the bed and into Dean's side, the mood effectively killed.

"No, you don't," Dean says, but he feels the same way.

***

Christmas morning is uneventful, more or less. There's an argument in the kitchen between a few of the siblings/cousins over whether or not they should attend mass (Dean doesn't even know where there's a church nearby). Eventually they all realize that none of them really want to go and that argument is quickly resolved.

Sam and Jess, and Stella, and Mary come over around noon. Sam is carrying Stella and a reusable shopping bag, Jess is carrying a Crockpot, and Mary is carrying two pie plates, and Dean is torn between taking the pie or his niece. The decision is made for him when Sam half-shoves his daughter into Dean's arms to catch the shopping bag from falling. 

Stella has the beginnings of soft, blonde curls and wide blue-green-brown-gray eyes that blink sleepily at Dean when he gets her.   
"It's snowing in Lawrence. Bobby called on the way over," Mary tells him as she starts setting herself up on Dean and Cas' kitchen island. "He said the heating broke at home." She pauses. "He'd gone over to check."

"Should we tell her?" Sam mutters to him as Dean entertains Stella with goofy faces. 

"Nah. We should call Bobby and have a chat with him, though."

"Dude, the man practically raised us with them!"

"Just saying!" Dean hisses, immediately breaking into a huge grin after, which makes Stella giggle. 

Dean gets shooed out of the kitchen with the baby so he settles on the couch in front of the tenth Christmas special he's seen this year (apparently the Novaks really like them). He turns Stella around, leaning her against his torso, whispering the facts about Frosty the Snowman to her.

"See, so he's made of snow," he says. "So when he goes into the greenhouse, he melts, because it's really warm in there. Like, tropical."

"Are you talking to a baby?" Luke says, plopping down next to him. He doesn't smell like illegal or questionably legal substances, so Dean doesn't feel the need to shift Stella away from him. 

"My niece, Stella. Jess was pregnant with her when we visited," Dean says. Luke peers at her a little closer.

"She looks like Sam," he decides. "I like kids, but I couldn't have my own. God, that kinda responsibility…" Luke shudders. "But she's pretty cute."

"You couldn't handle that kind of responsibility, and society couldn't handle you raising a child," Gabe says, not unkindly, sitting down on Dean's other side. "Seriously."

"Listen, just because I happen to be in what's considered an 'alternative relationship' doesn't mean we couldn't raise a kid!" Luke says. "By the way, Dean, the offer's still on the table for you and Sam. Y'know. Just if you were wondering."

"What offer?" Gabe asks. 

"Nothing," Dean says quickly. "Luke, let's keep that between you and me, okay? Sam might have an aneurysm, and he's got a kid now."

"No problem. Mention it to him when he's really zenned out, okay?" Luke pats Dean's knee, grins at Stella, and gets up and wanders away.

"What's the offer?" Gabe asks eagerly. 

"Dude, there is no way I'm mentioning it to Sam. That should be enough for you to know."

***

Anna and Jo and the last of the Novak clan arrive about two hours after Sam (apparently, moving a large amount of Novaks takes more skill and patience than either Anna or Jo actually have), so by the time they arrive dinner is ready. They settle into the table, start passing plates and dishes and directing and arguing with each other, when Balthazar frowns suddenly.

"Cas, I thought your tattoos were meant to be hidden easily," he says. "I mean, except for your neck ones, but your hands? Really?"

"What's on his hands?" Mike leans around the centerpiece -- a bouquet of newspaper roses, made by Jess and Mary when they came over a few nights ago -- to look. The rest of the table focuses in on Castiel's hands.

On his ring finger on his left hand is a letter "D" in his calligraphy writing. It's small, small enough that it would go unnoticed for long periods of time, small enough to be hidden under a ring. Mary reaches over across Sam and grabs Dean's hand insistently. A letter "C" is inked there, too, just as small and subtle as Cas' letter. 

"It's not an engagement," Cas says quickly. 

"No, it isn't," Dean agrees. "I realized something. It was after we got back, when we were buying the house." Dean looks at Cas. "He and I, we were it."

"Eloquent as always," Balthazar says dryly.

"I mean, I met all of you. Everyone's got skeletons in their closet but Cas -- Cas had zombies." A few people, the ones Dean knows have sense of humor, laugh. Rachel might be smiling, and Hester has this look on her face like she doesn't know whether she wants to or not. "You guys were dead to him for a while, not in a bad way, just how he had to live so he didn't go crazy and kill everyone. But then you all came stumbling out at once, and I got to meet all of you."

"He was traumatized," Cas says. 

"Just a little," Dean says, maybe a lie. "But after that, I knew. He wasn't gonna leave, no matter what. And I love him. So, we're not engaged. If we get married, we will. But he and I, we're stuck together."

"Merry fucking Christmas," Luke says, probably not as sober as Dean originally thought, raising his glass over his head. Everyone else echoes the sentiment, maybe a little bit cleaner than Luke's. The meal seems to pick up right where it left off after Dean and Cas' "announcement," and Dean and Sam find themselves staring in awe and shock when their mother starts swearing right along with the Novaks. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Dean wonders if they should be swearing around Stella, but she's only three months old. She can't talk yet, much less repeat any obscenities she might hear.

"So, Christmas in California-- a success?" Dean asks Cas later that night, after the Novaks and Winchesters and Harvelles that weren't staying with them leave, and they're in the privacy of their own room, the door safely locked this time. 

"We've still got New Year's," Cas points out.

"Yeah, but that's not even us. Jo and Anna are doing it," Dean points out. "Y'know, they're not that bad."

"I suppose not," Cas says.

"Oh, come on, don't say it like that," Dean says, scooting closer to him on the bed. "They seem to like me well enough. And they really missed you, Cas." When Cas doesn't reply, Dean continues: "I never got to meet your stepmom or your dad, so I don't know how bad it was, okay? But I know them, and I know them now, and they're -- Cas, if my family was like that, I'd probably be in Kansas or wherever the hell they are a lot more." 

Cas is holding Dean's hand, the left one, the hand with the not-an-engagement-tattoo tattoo. He kisses the letter, and Dean cups his chin and makes Cas look him in the eyes. 

"You know how much they care, right?" And Cas can hear the underlying question: you know how much I care, right?

"Yes," Cas answers, to both questions. 

Dean has worked on Cas these past six months, slowly teasing memories and stories of his childhood and Irma. He knows Cas trusts him. But it's moments like this, when Cas can't quite meet his eyes without a little extra push, when Cas can't quite finish his thought, that Dean wonders just how much more there is to the story. 

He's more than willing to wait.

Dean pulls him in for a soft kiss, just a press of lips, hardly anything. Beneath them, their fingers intertwine, their bodies pull closer, like magnets, and they entangle themselves. It doesn't take long for them to be panting into each other's mouths, suddenly hot even though the heating in the house is temperamental at best. 

The sex tonight is slower than they're used to. Dean bottoms, a rare occurrence but always a favorite. Cas goes slow, opening him gently, until Dean's whining and trying to rock back on his fingers. Cas almost cradles him as they fuck, his arms sliding up the sides of Dean's torso, hands wrapping around shoulders. They come, nearly together, swallowing each other's gasps and would-be shouts. Dean is the big spoon that night, arms warm and smooth against Cas' skin. In the morning they'll have to sneak the sheets by the rest of the Novaks to the washing machine, and showering off the mess of what will be dried come and lube will be a bitch. 

But for now, Cas' back is pressed against Dean's chest, and Dean is snoring slightly behind Cas' head, and in the clear winter moonlight streaming in from the window, a photograph frame is illuminated on Cas' bedside table. 

It's Irma, on her tenth birthday, surrounded by her favorite siblings. Cas smiles at the memory -- he's been doing that more and more lately -- and closes his eyes. Merry Christmas, Irma, is his last thought before he falls asleep.


End file.
